


In every version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you

by WinterRose527



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 54,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRose527/pseuds/WinterRose527
Summary: A group of one shots from Tumblr. Mostly Jonsa, but might add some other favourite pairings. If you have any prompts you'd like written, please send them along! Hope you enjoy xx





	1. Trick or Treat

For as long as she could remember, Sansa Stark loved Fall. She loved back to school shopping and football season, bonfires and cable knit sweaters. And Sansa Stark loved Halloween.

Ever since she was a little girl she had loved to dress up. There had been the three years in a row that she’d gone as a ballerina, or last year when she went as Holly Golightly in a black dress she made herself. Trick-or-treating had given way to dances and parties, but it didn’t matter. On Halloween you could be anyone.

Anyone except a broody sod, like her boyfriend was being now.

“Sansa…come on… do I really have to wear this?” Jon asked as he came out of her bathroom wearing a 30s gangster outfit, though the hat was on painfully straight.

“Yes,” Sansa said getting off of her bed and crossing to him. She tilted the hat just so and kissed his nose. “You promised.”

He rolled his eyes, “Under duress.”

“Oh is that what you’re calling me these days?” she asked him with a cock of her eyebrow. She walked him back to her bed and shoved him onto it, climbing on him. She loved the way his hands immediately went to her body, like he couldn’t stop himself even when trying to prove a point. “Well Jon Snow,” she said, kissing his neck, “You’re under duress now, what will you promise me this time?”

He growled at her and rolled them over, his hand cupping her face, looking down at her with those grey eyes of his.

“Anything, Sansa. You know that, anything,” he said and leaned into kiss her.

On Halloween night Jon Snow and Sansa Stark made the perfect Bonnie and Clyde, even if Jon’s suit was a little bit rumpled.


	2. Technology, and other advances in Modern Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the hilarious prompt from @sunbeamsandmoonrays on Tumblr, in which a girl asks Siri if a boy will every text her, and Siri texts the boy to ask him. Find original post on my Tumblr (same name)

She collapsed into bed next to Lady and giggled when her wolf licked her face, petting her sweet head.

“Do - hiccup - you think he will?,” she asked the wolf, cooing at her. The wolf tilted her head at her, as though trying to make sense of what she asked.

Sansa sighed and turned on her back, squinting with one eye in hopes that the room would stop spinning. She’d been at Harry Hardyng’s party and she and Myrcella had rather stupidly tried the punch. Gendry had brought both girls home, dropping Sansa off first and the last time she’d seen her normally dignified friend, she’d been trying to get her half-brother to sing a Britney Spears duet with her.

“Well I don’t…,” Sansa said, to the wolf apparently, as though she’d spoken, “You should have seen the way he was looking at that new girl…and I was just - hiccup - all little sister-y.”

Lady lay her head on her chest, and the wolf didn’t need words now to tell her how she felt. _Lady would never choose Daenerys over me._

“Let’s - hiccup - ask the guru: Siri,” she says, waiting for her iPhone to come to life, “Just….Jon Snow are you ever going to text me?”

She drifted off to sleep before she got her answer.

***

“She’s terrifying,” Jon said as he came out of Robb’s bathroom after brushing his teeth.

Theon had just dropped them off at the Starks and they were both a bit wobbly on their feet after their many rounds of beer pong.

“And crazy into you,” Robb said as he changed into a t-shirt. “I thought she was going to mount you tonight.”

“Wouldn’t it be the other way around?,” Jon asked curiously.

“Keep telling yourself that, Snow,” his best friend said with a grin.

The only possible response to that was to smack him in the face with a pillow.

Jon was saved from his retaliation when one of their phones bleeped and Robb picked it up. Or so he thought.

“Why is my little sister texting you?,” Robb asked angrily.

“I uh… I don’t know…maybe she needs a ride home?,” Jon asked, reaching for his phone.

“She left with Gendry and Myrcella, do you really think I would have left without her?,” Robb asked.

“You mean, do I really think you would have not noticed Myrcella Baratheon leave the party?,” Jon asked with a smirk, trying to deflect.

Robb blushed, “That’s not the point. What does it say?”

Jon put in his password and saw the most confusing seven words of all time: _Are you ever going to text me?_

“I uh… she must’ve texted the wrong person,” he says, never one to lie he hands his best friend his phone.

Robb looks at him warily and with a shake of his head says, “You know nothing Jon Snow.”

***

Sansa wakes with a headache akin to the time Arya had walloped her with a volleyball over last summer break.

She wakes up to a number of instagram notifications on her and Myrcella’s boomerang video, along with 6 text messages.

The first is from Harry Hardyng:

“Hey Red, wish you hadn’t ducked out early, my parents are out of town for another couple of days if you feel like a rematch…”

_Now she had to fight the urge to vomit as well._

Two from Myrcella:

“Dearest Sansa, As discussed and promised, I have texted to inform you that I have made my way home. Let us convene on the morrow for lattes and croissants. Ever yours, Elliebelle.”

“Oh, also, tell Robb he sucks at beer pong.”

And three, from Jon Snow:

“Hey Sans, did you mean to text me?”

“I’m sure you didn’t but…if you did… are you okay? I’m here and I’ll be up for a bit if you want to talk…”

“Are you up? I’m going to stop in before I leave.”

_Oh FUCK. I texted him? How did - SIRI. Okay, well it’s official, I’m dead. They can hold my funeral on Thursday. That should be enough time for the baker’s to make enough lemon cakes and to pick up some Winter Roses._

There is a knock on her door and she shoots out of bed.

“Just uh - Just a minute!,” she shouts, running to her mirror to assess the situation.

“Sans? Sansa I’m coming in…,” she hears the gruff tone of Jon’s voice through the door.

 _Fuck_ , she thinks and does the only thing she can think to do and hides behind her closet door.

“Sansa?,” he asks as he opens the door.

She sticks her hand out behind the closet door and waves.

“What are you doing back there?,” he asks her and she can hear his annoyingly perfect grin in his voice.

“Hiding,” she says, as thought it’s obvious.

“And why are you hiding?,” he asks and she can hear his footsteps on her hardwood floor.

“Because I’m hungover and look disgusting and I texted you,” she says, because what’s the point?

His fingers close around the door and he gently shuts her closet. She is still there, in the corner, terrified and so in love with him she can’t see straight.

“You texted me,” he says, and there is a look of wonder in his brown eyes. “Me?”

“Yes, you, who else?,” she says indignantly.

He let’s out a laugh but there are tears in his eyes and suddenly everything is okay because he’s reaching for her and he doesn’t seem to care that there is mascara on her cheek or that she was wearing an old t-shirt of Robb’s.

“Harry Hardyng?,” he asks her playfully and she shoves him rolling her eyes.

“Jon!,” she exclaims in exasperation because no one could annoy her like he could.

“Yes, beautiful?,” he asks her as he finds a way to surround her.

“Are you ever going to kiss me?,” she asks quietly.

She doesn’t have to wait long for her answer.

***

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Siri, are they ever going to stop making out?,” Robb asked in exasperation from the driver’s seat.

Sansa and Jon were in the back and had both had rather a bit to drink, but they pulled apart at the tone of his voice, sharing the laugh that only those in love could share.

“Here’s a better question for you Siri, is Robb ever going to make out with me?,” the beautiful blonde in the front seat said with a sly smile.

“Robb eyes on the road!” Jon shouted as Myrcella Baratheon giggled.

_Siri, are these girls going to kill us?_


	3. Puppy Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the below prompt: 
> 
> Jon: *sitting outside a cafe, enjoying coffee and a newspaper*   
> Ghost: *sitting at his feet people-watching*
> 
> *A thud against the other side of the window they’re sitting beside makes them both look up*
> 
> Sansa, inside the cafe with both palms flat against the window and her face too close to the glass: CAN I PET YOUR DOG?

_Thank the gods its Saturday_ , Jon Snow thought as he made his way down the cobblestone streets with his husky, Ghost.

It had been a long week, though with working in the defence department, they were all long weeks. His boss Mormont had sent him home after a couple of all-nighters, and Jon squinted in the sun, so unused to it. _No wonder Sam tells me I have resting bitch-face_ , he thought as he caught a glimpse of his grimace in a shop window.

“You don’t mind my resting bitch-face, do you boy?,” he asked Ghost who looked up at him with a dopey smile, his tongue lolling to one side. _Perhaps not my toughest audience._

They got to Jon’s favourite coffee shop, Wintertown Roast, and he left Ghost at one of the outside tables. He didn’t bother securing his leash on anything, Ghost would never leave, and if he did have the inkling, there’s no leash that could stop him anyway.

He went inside and grabbed a large black coffee and a newspaper and gratefully accepted the bowl of water the barista Pip filled for Ghost.

When he’d settled back outside, he surveyed the front page of the newspaper. Ghost hummed happily at his feet, his head raising every so often to sniff the air and watch the people as they went by.

**ENEMIES TO THE EAST: What is the Westorosi Government not telling us about the murders in Essos?**

_Plenty_ , Jon thought, thinking back on the images he’d seen over the past week, some vigilante militia had been purging the upper ranks of Yunkai and Mereen.

A rattle against the window breaks him out of his thoughts and he turns to see what has to be the most beautiful face he’s ever seen…pressed way too close to the glass.

He gives the woman an incredulous smirk, cocking an eyebrow as if to say _How can I best be your humble servant until the day I die?_

“CAN I PET YOUR DOG?,” she shouts, though there is only a thin later of glass between them.

He isn’t quite sure he can speak, at least not without making an ass out of himself, so he simply nods, dumbfounded.

He hears the door of the cafe open behind him and he nudges Ghost with his foot. Ever the wingman, Ghost comes out from his spot under the table and sits regally with his chest puffed out.

That is for all of three seconds, until he is then attacked by a mass of russet curls belonging to a girl no older than four.

“Kitty, no! What did I say? Not all dogs are like Grey Wind and Summer, you have to be careful,” the woman he’d seen in the window says as she nervously runs to pull Kitty back.

“Oh uh, don’t worry about her…not with Ghost anyway…,” Jon says, though the beauty had already stopped when she’d seen Ghost fall to his side, his tail wagging as the little girl starfished on top of him.

The woman turns to him and smiles, tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, “Sorry she has a wild father and two teenage uncles… decorum hasn’t quite steeped in yet, despite her mother’s best efforts.”

The little girl looks vaguely like her, though her curls are darker than her mother’s straight locks and her eyes are an otherworldly green compared to the woman’s clear blue. _Beauty sure runs in the family though, the wild father is a lucky man._

“I’m sure you’re doing the best you can,” Jon said, and the little girl’s peel of laughter brought a grin to his face, “Your daughter is adorable.”

_Adorable? I didn’t even realise that word was in my vocabulary._

“Oh she’s not my daughter,” the woman said, kneeling down so that she could survey Ghost and the little girl, “She’s my niece, isn’t that right, little one?,” she asked, swiping the girl’s nose lightly with her index finger.

_Niece! So maybe she isn’t married after all…._

“Mmhm,” the little girl said. She’d now taken to sitting on the sidewalk, lounging back against Ghost as if he were a couch. The look Ghost gave him seemed to say _Can we keep her?_ “Auntie Sansa and me are having a girl’s day,” Kitty said proudly with the tone all children seemed to get when they felt they were being treated like adults.

“Is that so?,” Jon asked, in a voice he didn’t know he possessed, “You must be pretty special.”

“Mmmhm…and Theo and Billy aren’t allowed!,” Kitty said triumphantly.

“Her older brothers,” Auntie Sansa explained, “Twins… six years old… half-boys, half-wolves,” she said with a loving smile.

“Awooooooooo,” little Kitty let out, howling at the hidden moon.

AWOOOOOOOOOO Ghost said, mirroring her howling. This earned him giggles and pets from Sansa and Kitty. _Ham_.

“Sorry to have disrupted your morning,” Sansa says quietly as she stands up, “My family all has huskies too, she’s got kind of a one track mind around them,” she says, though she looks fondly, and if he’s not mistaken, a bit sadly at her niece and Ghost.

“Do uh…do you have one?,” he asked. _Maybe we could walk them together, or maybe they could just hang out in my living room while I kissed every inch of your gorgeous body._

He felt like a pervert. Here she was, out for a pleasant morning with her niece and all he could think about was what those legs would feel like wrapped around him.

“Not anymore,” she said quietly. _I’m an idiot._ “Anyway, I’m sorry -?”

“Jon,” he said, clearing his throat, hoping to recover. “And don’t be sorry… well… maybe you should be a little sorry, I’m going to be a poor substitute after Kitty, aren’t I Ghost?”

“Can Ghost come to the park with Auntie Sansa and me?,” Kitty asked him, addressing him directly and imploring him with those _really unfair_ wide green eyes.

“Oh, sweetling, we’re going to have to say goodbye to Jon and Ghost soon, okay? They’ve already been so nice letting us say hello, haven’t they?,” Sansa said, picking up her niece and pressing her forehead against hers.

Of course, the smart thing to do would have been to agree, to say he had a busy morning. But Kitty held onto her Aunt’s neck and looked at him with a small smile, as though she _knew_ he wasn’t very smart, and Ghost had sat up, picking up his leash in his mouth the moment he’d heard the word ‘park’.

_This is not a duo I would bet against._

“Well…I mean… we wouldn’t want to crash girls day,” he said, and earned a smile from Sansa that stopped his heart. He looked at her, wordlessly communicating his intention so that the child and the dog couldn’t blame her if she said no.

Sansa looked at him, and he could have sworn that her eyes travelled briefly to his lips. She bit her lip and turned to Kitty, “Well I don’t know… do you think we should make an exception?”

 _What four year old knows the word exception?_ He wondered.

“Maybe just this once,” Kitty said with an amused smile, sounding very much like she was repeating something she’d heard many times before. _Maybe from her mother, who indulges her wild father and wolf-brothers. Another beauty to be sure._

Sansa let Kitty down and the little girl promptly picked up Ghost’s leash. The pair started walking down the sidewalk, Ghost shifting so that he was in between the little girl and the road.

“Come along then, Jon,” Sansa said, picking up her coffee and smiling back at him as she started following them, “You can tell me all about the enemy to the East while they take over the world, one swing set at a time…”

Jon grabbed his coffee and his newspaper, and jogged to catch up with them. Wherever they were going, he’d follow.


	4. Puppy Love Chapter 2

“Mommy!,” Kitty shouted as they arrived to the soccer field, tackling her mother who was sitting on a flannel blanket. 

 

“Hi baby!,” Myrcella ‘Ella’ Stark said, smoothing Kitty’s curls as the little girl settled in her lap. “Did you have fun with Auntie Sansa?”

 

“Yeah! We had hot cocoa and went to the park and I climbed the monkey bars, the whole way!,” Kitty said excitedly, “Jon helped a little but I did it Mommy!”

 

 _Jon?_ Ella mouthed over her daughter’s head at Sansa and she couldn’t help but blush. 

 

 _Jon_ Sansa mouthed back, biting back a smile, and Ella being Ella didn’t press the matter, not with so many ears around. 

 

“Oh Kitty, thank the gods, we need you,” her little brother Rickon said as he came over to pull his niece out of her mother’s arms. Kitty went happily, and took the hat her uncle was wearing and pulled it on her own head, “Now what do we tell Theo and Billy?”

 

“NO PRISONERS!,” Kitty shouted, earning looks from a few of the parents. In their defence, this was a six year old’s soccer game. 

 

Rickon clearly didn’t see anything wrong with it though, because he said, “That’s right, Kitty, NO PRISONERS!”

 

Billy and Theo were the first to take up the chant, but soon all the other boys on their team took it up, as Rickon jumped up and down in the middle of it all. 

 

Her brother Robb buried his face in his hands, shooting apologies at the referees and other coaches.

 

Ella took the opportunity and tugged her down, completely unfazed by her 4 year old daughter starting a riot. 

 

“Jon?,” she asked again. 

 

Ella was her oldest friend and Sansa should’ve known that her one-track mind would go right back to this. 

 

“We met him at the coffeeshop,” she said, then by way of explanation, “He has a husky.”

 

“He does, does he?,” Ella said and smiled when Sansa blushed, “Well you can borrow my daughter any time you need a wingwoman.”

 

Sansa smiled and bit her lip, thinking of how helpless Jon had been with her. 

 

“I may take you up on that,” Sansa said and Ella turned to her incredulously. There were tears in both their eyes when they met. 

 

Ella put an arm around her and kissed her temple. “This is good, Dove, this is really good,” she whispered.

 

 _I think so too,_ she thought, as she burrowed into her sister-in-law’s embrace.

 

***

 

 _Just text her_ , Ghost seemed to say when they got home from their errands. 

 

 _Just text her_ , he seemed to say again, when Jon had eaten his take-out dinner. 

 

 _Just fucking text her_ , he seemed to shout, as they got into bed. 

 

Jon was not known for his words so texting was his absolute nightmare. Emojis always seemed crazy to him, and he often overthought his punctuation. 

 

But when a girl like Sansa Stark gives you her number, it is your moral imperative to text her. 

 

They’d had a great time at the park. Kitty had made it her mission to find Ghost the perfect fetch stick, and while she’d run around, Ghost at her heels, making sure everyone gave the little girl a wide berth, he and Sansa looked on, chatting about this and that. 

 

He’d learned that she was from a big family, three brothers and one sister, that her older brother Robb, Kitty’s father, had married her best friend. 

 

He learned that she worked for a non-profit now, though she’d originally studied to become a fashion designer. 

 

He learned that she could jokingly reference obscure facts from ancient history and thanks to Kitty, that the back of her left knee was obscenely ticklish. 

 

But most of all he’d learned that he was a total fucking goner, though he’d known that the moment she pressed her pert nose to the window of the coffee shop. 

 

He pulled out his phone, looking in wonder at her contact _Sansa Stark._

 

**_Jon: Hi Sansa, it’s Jon… I hope it’s alright that I’m texting you._ **

 

**_Sansa: Would have been rather strange of me to give you my number if it wouldn’t be…_ **

 

_Idiot._

 

**_Jon: Good point. How did the game go?_ **

 

**_Sansa: It was a blood bath, literally. Kitty incited a riot and the Winterfell Wolves played the dirtiest game of first grade soccer I’ve ever seen._ **

 

**_Jon: Classic Kitty._ **

 

**_Jon: So, do you think I could take you for a drink this week?_ **

 

He had to wait a long time for her response, but it was worth it. 

 

**_Sansa: Yes, I think you could._ **

 

He didn’t waste anytime texting her back. 

 

**_Jon: Thursday, 8 o’clock at Weirwood?_ **

 

**_Sansa: I’ll be the one that looks like me._ **

 

Jon’s smile lasted the rest of the weekend, and he earned more than one dumbfounded glance during the Monday morning debrief. 

 

***

“Let me see the black again,” Ella said into the computer on Wednesday night. 

 

“Just a minute,” Sansa said, before disappearing back into her closet and pulling on her black turtleneck. 

 

She had it paired with a black and gold brocade mini skirt, black tights and structured black flats. 

 

She posed in front of the camera of her computer, so that Ella could see the whole outfit. 

 

“Do you guys really not spend enough time together?,” Sansa’s little sister Arya asked as she appeared in Ella and Robb’s kitchen, waving hello to Sansa. 

 

“Don’t be jealous, sissy,” Ella said, smacking a kiss on her cheek, “I’m just helping Sansa here choose an outfit and then I’m all yours.”

 

“An outfit for what? Donor meeting?,” Arya asked as she started chopping carrots at the kitchen counter. 

 

They’d invited Sansa over for dinner as well tonight, but she knew Robb wanted to speak with Arya alone. He was worried she wasn’t finishing university (at 23 she was already behind a year) and he didn’t like to have those conversations with Sansa around. As close as the girls were now, their teen years had been fraught with normal sibling discord that could still start to simmer when Arya felt she was being attacked. 

 

Robb, a father of three, was also the father for his younger siblings, given that their parents had died when she was seventeen. Both Bran and Rickon lived with him and Ella still, as they were still in high school. Robb never complained though, and in truth, he was the best man she knew. 

 

Ella caught her eye through the screen and it was Sansa who said, “No…I sort of have a date.”

 

This perked her little sister’s interest. It would have even perked Rickon’s at this point. 

 

“Is that so?,” Arya said, as though it didn’t matter to her. _You don’t have to tiptoe around me anymore,_ Sansa thought, though it touched her all the same. “Well it wouldn’t hurt to show off the goods Sans, don’t you have anything a little bit more booby?”

 

“Haha Auntie Arya said booby!,” she heard Billy say as Robb entered the kitchen, with a son holding onto either arm and Kitty on his back. 

 

“Billy, sweetling, please take your sister to wash her hands for dinner,” Ella said, nipping that in the bud, “Theo, you go too, please.”

 

The three children slowly slid off their father and out of the frame, though Sansa heard Kitty saying something about how she was the one that had to make sure Billy washed _his_ hands. 

 

“Hey Dove,” Robb said, his face getting comically close to the computer. He who was one of the brightest political minds of his generation was a total dorky dad when it came to technology. 

 

“Hello Robbert,” Sansa said, suddenly wishing she had taken Ella up on her offer to come to dinner. 

 

“What’s this I hear about a date?,” he asked as he stepped away, going up behind his wife and pressing a kiss to her neck. 

 

“ _Get a room_ ,” Arya said, making gagging noises.

 

“This whole house is our room,” Robb said, sounding less like a man nearing thirty and more like a cocky older brother. “Now, Dove, what’s this I hear about a date?”

 

“I think the connection is cutting out,” Sansa said, pretending to poke her computer screen, “Can you guys hear me? Ella? Robb? KITTY CAN YOU HEAR ME!?!?!?”

 

“YESSSSSSS,” her little niece said, running back into the room, Grey Wind at her heels. 

 

“Nice try, Sansa,” Arya said with a grin, “Too bad Kitty is more adept with technology than her father.”

 

“Old Mr. Luwin is more adept with technology than Robb is, so is Grey Wind come to think of it,” Rickon said as he came, into the frame, his dog Shaggy behind. 

 

“He has other talents,” her middle brother Bran said as he came in with his friend Jojen.

 

“He certainly does,” Ella said, giving Rickon a playfully reproachful look. Rickon, helpless as ever against Ella, threw his hands up in defeat before planting a kiss on his sister-in-law’s cheek and shepherding his nephews to the table. 

 

“So a date?,” Robb asked again, but their family was settling in around the table and Ella was calling him over to carve the turkey she’d made. 

 

As the commotion takes over, Ella comes over to the computer and winks at Sansa, _my emotional bodyguard,_ “You don’t need to be booby to dazzle him, Dove. You look perfect, text me if you need anything, actually, text me regardless.”

 

She blew her friend a kiss and signed off. 

 

She knew she should be nervous for tomorrow, and she was, but more than that she was excited. 

 

 _When you’re older, I hope you find someone brave, gentle and strong,_ her father had once said.

 

_Me too, Daddy, me too._

 

***

 

Jon walked into Weirwood, one of the only cocktail bars in the city he could stand (he was more a fan of pubs), at 7:59. He’d intended to change after work, but he’d gotten stuck in a meeting and had to text his friend Sam to let Ghost out just so he could make it on time. 

 

He was wearing a black suit with a white collared shirt, though he’d unbuttoned the top button and lost the tie on his way over. He sat down on one of the bar stools that had a good view of the door and ordered a whiskey neat. 

 

He felt the mood change in the room and he turned towards the door, where Sansa Stark had just glided in, looking gorgeous and untouchable in a black turtleneck and black and gold skirt. She didn’t wear heels, but her legs seemed to go on for miles in those black tights and she drew the gaze of every male in the room. 

 

He stood up and waved at her, catching her answering smile somewhere deep in his ribs.

 

“Jon,” she said as she neared him, planting a hesitant kiss on his cheek and filling his nose with the sent of lavender. 

 

“Sansa,” he said, and he knew that he sounded the fool. He said her name like he couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him, because he couldn’t. 

 

“Something for the lady?,” the bartender asked as Sansa slit into the seat next to Jon.

 

“Vodka martini with a twist, please,” Sansa said. Then she turned to Jon and smiled at him shyly, tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear.

 

“Did you uh, have a good day?,” Jon asked and could swear the bartender shook his head in pity as he set the martini down in front of Sansa.

 

“I did… I had a meeting with our accountant and we are 90% cleared for a new venture, so a couple months a head of schedule… how was yours?,” she asked as she took a sip of her drink.

 

Jon was distracted by the way she licked her lip to catch an errant drop. He didn’t like vodka, but he would have been more than happy to do that for her.

 

“It was okay,” he said and she narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“You wouldn’t be able to tell me though if it weren’t, would you?,” she asked him with a grin.

 

Jon chuckled, _too clever for your own good_ , “No, I suppose I couldn’t… well I could, but I’d have to blame it on the rain or a flat tire or something.”

 

“So Jon, any flat tires?,” she asked, leaning forward conspiratorially, as though she were a spy in a film noir.

 

He took up her game, because he’d take up anything she proposed, and he shook his head and leaned in, whispering in her ear, “And not a cloud in sight.”

 

She let out a giggle, a tinkling sound that warmed his insides and held up her glass, “Well here’s to blue skies.”

 

“And to you, Sansa Stark,” he said, clinking it with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may separate this one out to create it's own fic... let me know what you think!


	5. All the Stories are True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Tumblr prompt from Argetlam25: Jon/Sansa at WF doing some ritual for the old religion for protection

“This isn’t going to work,” Jon grumbled as they trudged through the snow. 

 

“There’s no way you could possibly know that,” Sansa pointed out. She was right. Always. It was more than a little annoying. 

 

“Sansa we don’t have time for this,” he sighed in frustration, though they’d already reached the Weirwood tree. 

 

He was surprised she’d wanted to come back here. After all, this was where she was married to Ramsay Bolton. Many of the horrors she’d suffered had taken place because of the words she said under this tree. But she was a Stark, she had the blood of the First Men in her veins, and she was home now. She would not be frightened. 

 

“You and your advisors have sat around discussing this plan within an inch of your lives for days now, this will only take a minute,” she countered. Then she spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her, “This is the only thing I can do to protect you.”

 

“I’m the one who’s going to protect you, Sansa,” he said, aching to take her in his arms. He remembered the first night they’d been reunited. He’d blamed the feral, instant, suffocating need to protect her on the man they’d both called father. He could no longer do so. 

 

Ned Stark had never been his father. Bran had told him as much. None of the lords knew yet, nor the foreign army that had accompanied him home, not even their Queen. _His_ Queen, he remembered. It was important not to slip up, not even in his mind. He had bent the knee, pledged her his loyalty, and had slept with her for good measure. That was before he knew what she was though, or rather, who she was to him. _My Queen, my Aunt, my lover…_

 

“We protect each other, Jon,” she sighed, “Or do you forget who the Knights of the Vale came for, do you forget who killed Littlefinger?” 

 

There were few things in life he regretted quite so much as not being there when Littlefinger realised he’d been bested by his pupil, the child he’d kidnapped, the woman he’d thought to make his wife. 

 

“I will never forget that,” he said passionately, his anger rising in him. She had a way of summoning it, it and other more dangerous things. “But Sansa this is… nothing but one of Old Nan’s stories…”

 

“Like the stories about a three-eyed raven who knew the answer to every question ever asked, or of dragons, and white-walkers?,” she asked, “How many stories have to try to kill us before you realise that they’re all _true_.”

 

She was right, _again_. Of course, that intelligence is exactly the reason he was afraid to do this. There was no possibility of her not seeing through him. To allow a connection to her like this would be like letting her into his very soul. 

 

“But why does it have to be you?,” he asked. 

 

“I’m the blood of Winterfell,” she said, looking like the one true queen. She had no need of a crown or a throne, her power came from within. “Who better?”

 

He sighed. He would never win against her, not in a battle of wills.

 

Content that she’s won, she takes out a dagger. Valyrian steel, the one that Arya had used to kill Littlefinger. 

 

She raised the dagger to her palm, slicing a thin, determined line. He saw little droplets of blood hit the white snow, it felt like an omen. 

 

She handed him the dagger and he sliced his hand as well, sheathing the blade once he was done. 

 

_“Sky, Root, Sea, Flame,_

_I wish you to protect his name_

_Jon Snow, is your loyal soldier_

_Guide him as the nights grow colder_

_And if he should fall in a clash of swords_

_Then let him be protected by these words_

_Give him the strength he needs to survive_

_Above all else, keep him alive_

_And if he should need to borrow_

_Faith or luck to avoid sorrow_

_Then take the strength from my very bones_

_I give him this, the most sacred of loans_

_Draw the power that he needs from me_

_So that together, once again, we can be.”_

 

They clasped hands, joining where the blood still ran. _All the stories are true_ , he thought, as he _felt_ her coursing through his veins, their lives interlocking like vines growing together.

 

He felt her shudder and he held her upright. _These gods are quick._

 

He saw her soul too, the deep crevices of her mind that no one should ever get to explore, the wells of her heart that no one should reach. To his happiness and his horror he found himself there. And he knew that she was finding the same within him. _Where will we go_ , he’d said once. He had not realised he meant they might journey into torment together. He had never dared hope.

 

There were tears in her eyes but she said, “We’re supposed to…it’s supposed to be _sealed_ with a kiss.”

 

How could he deny the ritual now, when he had seen it work? Now, when he had seen that he was her every secret. 

 

He stepped forward, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. He kissed her once, but as he moved away he saw her move forward slightly, and that was enough to make him capture her lips again. It was neither chaste nor singular, and though it was surely damning, it felt holy. 

 

He sought to devour her and she seemed to want to be so claimed, clutching him to her as though afraid he would leave her. 

 

“I, I know this can’t be but -,” she started. 

 

“What did I say about words before but?,” he asked her teasingly. 

 

“Fine, then I know this can’t be, I know that you’re pledged to the Dragon Queen, I know that you’re off to fight the White Walkers, I know that everyone still thinks you’re my brother, and I know that we could both be dead come Spring, _but_ I love you, Jon Snow.”

 

“As I love you, Sansa Stark,” he said, kissing her again because everything she’d said was true, and it was all _horseshit_ compared to how he felt about her.

 

***

 

Sansa was knitting by the fire a week later when all of a sudden she grew faint and weak, her knitting needles clattering to the floor. _Keep him safe, and return him to me_ , she thought before losing consciousness. 

 

***

 

When Jon returned a month after that, he had a new scar over his heart that was cold to the touch. 

 

He showed it to Sansa on their wedding night and when it healed from her kiss he didn’t question it. After all, _all the stories are true._

 

_***_

 

Centuries later a girl stands underneath the Weirwood tree in front of the only boy she’s ever loved. 

 

“Please, just let me, let me protect you the way Queen Sansa protected King Jon,” she pleaded, tears in her eyes. 

 

“That’s just a story, my love,” he said, kissing the tears that fell on her cheeks. 

 

“My father always told me, _all the stories are true_ ,” she whispered, “Please.”

 

He gave into her, he always would, “Okay, Lyanna,” he told the girl, so named for the mother of King Jon, one of the girl’s own ancestors.

 

He brought her lips to his and kissed her softly, before pulling out the blade she'd requested he bring. She took it from him and without hesitation sliced her palm.

 

The beauty in front of him was so like her fearless namesake that he had wondered once or twice if history was repeating itself in an attempt to right the wrongs of the past.  

 

He wasn’t sure that White Walkers had ever really existed, or dragons either, but the one thing he never doubted was that a man would go to the ends of the earth to protect the woman he loved, or that in the end, it was her that was the one who saved him. 


	6. A Matched Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Myrcella Baratheon needs a partner, Robb Stark steps up. With a lot of practice and a bit of luck, they could get the Gold, and maybe a few other things along the way....
> 
>  
> 
> There will be multiple chapters of this, but I'm going to keep it in here for now!

September 12, 2017. 

 

“What do you mean it’s _broken_?,” Myrcella asked into the phone, jumping off her bed, as though a different altitude might change the news. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Doe,” Trystane said, “I was just…goofing off with Nym and Tyene and I fell on it wrong.”

 

_Well I suppose there is always the 2022 Olympics in Braavos._

 

“Are you in pain?,” she asked, the initial shock wearing off and she was now filled with concern for her friend, rather than her partner. 

 

“They’ve got me pretty doped up,” he said, “But listen Doe, you need to act _immediately_ , I’m sure there’ll be plenty of guys that would kill to be your partner but you can’t risk losing practice time, okay? Just whatever you do, do _not_ let your mother convince you to work with Ramsay. I don’t care what the papers say, that partner of his did not just _slip_ on her own, Tansy is almost as sure-footed as you.”

 

“Okay, thanks Trystane. And by the way, I’m really sorry. I wanted it to be us out there,” she said. They’d talked about it for ages, since they were 8 and 9, taking lessons at the same rink. 

 

“Me too, Doe. But no matter what, it’s got to be you.”

 

***

 

September 24, 2017.

 

“This is ridiculous, what was wrong with that one?,” her mother said. 

 

Cersei Lannister reinvented the term Momager, and they’d spent the past twelve days holding tryouts with all of the best male skaters in the country. Once word had spread about Myrcella Baratheon, the darling of the Westoros skating scene, needing a new partner, there had been no shortage of offers. 

 

“He had unconventional opinions,” Myrcella said delicately. 

 

“So what? You don’t even need to speak to him,” her mother said, clearly scanning to see if she could find the boy and bring him back. 

 

“The opinions were about where exactly his fingers should be placed during a lift,” Myrcella said. She nearly smiled. It was a rarity for her mother to be shocked. 

 

“Well, only one more for today and then I think we really should think about calling Ramsay, his father owes yours a favour,” her mother said, scanning her cell, “It looks like the last is…oh god…it’s a _Stark._ ”

 

*

 

 _I can’t believe I’m here_ , Robb thought. Two years ago he’d thought he’d be going to the Olympics for hockey, and going pro, but after one too many concussions, his mother had forced the issue with his father and he’d been pulled out of that. 

 

He’d always felt more himself on skates than in shoes, so with no outlet and plenty of self-pity, he’d agreed to help his sister Sansa practice. She didn’t have Olympic aspirations, hers was a quiet kind of love. She just wanted to get better, and he surmised that a part of her asked him to give him the excuse to get back on the ice. She was so _good_ like that. 

 

It turned out that he had a knack for it, and to his surprise, he loved it. He always felt so awkward trying to dance, never being able to do more than grind with girls at house parties, but on the ice he found it so much easier. With his athletic form, he learned the lifts easily enough, and his sister’s giggle as he held her in the air, soaring on the ice, was his constant companion. 

 

It had been Sansa who’d mentioned the blast she saw. 

 

“ _Come on Sansa, there’s no way I’m good enough for that.”_

 

_“Yes you are, Robb. You’re more talented than I am, I know you can do this.”_

 

_“Isn’t she like…skating royalty, Sans, I’m sure she won’t agree to work with an amateur.”_

 

_“I don’t think she’s like that. I was in a competition with her once, one of the girls, Myranda I think, was really rude to me and Myrcella came up and told me how much she liked my costume, and showed me that trick, you know that thing when I drape my head to the side? She was nice.”_

 

He definitely hadn’t been convinced by seeing Myrcella’s picture. The timing of the two occurrences was entirely coincidental. 

 

But anyway, that’s how Robb Stark arrived at King’s Landing Ice Rink on a September day, five months before the Olympics. 

 

He walked in, feeling the way he always did when he neared the ice. He and Sansa practiced outside on their family’s property, but to him, nothing compared to this. 

 

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a lone figure on the ice. She was shorter than Sansa, which would make the mechanics of the lifts easier, and impossibly slender. She wore a pale blue long sleeve leotard, and her golden hair was loose. There was something effortless about her, he could see the strength of her limbs but every move was executed as if on a whim, her hair flying around her. She leapt into the air and landed a double axel, landing on one foot, the other behind her until her body was parallel to the floor. She turned to her side, lifting the leg up and _Oh that head-drapey thing_. 

 

“Well you’re either Robb Stark or a pervert,” a commanding blonde woman said. 

 

“It’s entirely possible that I’m both,” he countered before he could think better of it. 

 

Both he and the woman turned towards the girl on the ice, who was giggling. She skated over to him, doing a hockey stop that earned her a glare from her mother. 

 

“I’m Myrcella Baratheon, want to go to the Olympics?,” she asked him with a sly smile. 

 

 _Olympics, the DMV, a nice little weekend trip to Hell_ , he thought, thinking of all the places he’d go if she asked. 

 

She was mesmerising up close, with a natural blush to her cheeks and her sparkling eyes. 

 

“For starters,” he said, with one of his own. 


	7. A Matched Pair: Chapter 2

October 1, 2017

 

“This isn’t going to work,” Robb said with a frustrated sigh. 

 

_No, don’t quit. You’re my only chance to go to the Olympics and you’re so cute it makes me want to vomit._

 

“Please can’t we just try again? If you quit I-,” Myrcella started but he cut her off. 

 

“Quit? Why would I quit?,” he asked her as though she’d wounded his very existence. “If there’s one thing you need to know about me Myrcella, it’s that I _don’t_ quit, and besides…I’d never do that to you.”

 

He looked at her with those blue eyes of his and it was then she realised that his hands were still on her waist from when he’d let her down. 

 

“Oh… so what then?,” she asked curiously. 

 

“It’s um…this routine,” Robb says, “It’s great and all…but um… it’s a little stuffy.”

 

_Where were you back in August when I was trying to explain that to Trystane?_

 

“Alright…so if you _were_ to make some changes,” she said, “Do you…could we start with the music?”

 

His grin was the only answer she needed. 

 

*

 

“What do you _mean_ you’ve never heard The Wildlings?,” Robb asked her incredulously as they sat side by side on the bleachers.  

 

“Well…I don’t go to normal high school…I don’t really…,” _have a life_ , she wanted to say but couldn’t, not to him. Not to the boy who was rumoured to have ended up on the Summer Isles on a wild boys weekend, when they’d meant to be in Dorne. “Know a lot of music…,” she finished because he was looking at her intently. 

 

That was the way Robb _always_ seemed to look at her. Not like her mother, who was usually looking at her cell phone, or her father, who was usually looking at his glass of whiskey, or like Tommen, who was always looking at his shoes, or Joffrey, who she didn’t like to look at. Robb looked at her like she’d never been looked at, like at any moment she might tell him the _greatest_ secrets of the universe.

 

“Oh my sweet, summer, child,” he said, standing up and unplugging her phone from the speakers. He plugged his in and scrolled through until he found the song he wanted. He held his hand out and said, “You are in for it now.”

 

She reprimanded herself for the feeling she felt when her hand touched his. _He has held you in every possible way, get a life._

 

The song started as they got onto the ice and she held onto his hand. 

 

“So I was thinking…,” Robb started. 

 

“No, no, don’t do that,” she said, and gripping his hand she took off into a skate. 

 

***

 

He hadn’t gotten used to holding Myrcella’s hand. He could hold her above his head without issue, but in that case he was so focused on not _dropping_ her that he didn’t really have time to think about how good her waist felt in his hands. 

 

She had her hair down, just like the day he’d met her, and she was skating to the song with her eyes closed. Every so often she’d turn, go backwards, and he followed her as though his feet had the exact same idea. 

 

She looked so _free_ , so full of _love_ for what she was doing that he couldn’t help but edge in front of her, picking her up and spinning with her in his arms. She let out a carefree giggle and he let her down with great reluctance, keeping her close as he lead her. 

 

She was skating backwards and her green eyes looked up at him like she’d follow wherever he took her. The chorus was starting, and he took one leg, hitching it over his and took them in a wide circle. She leaned her head to the side, her iconic _head-drape_ as Sansa called it, and reached her hand down to the ice, the tips of her fingers trailing it. He spun them around until they slowed in time with the music and as he pulled her up, her foot returning to the ice, they started into a waltz. He twirled her, pulling her in closely. He was sure he’d imagined her sigh. 

 

“Ready?,” he asked her, whispering in her ear. 

 

 _It must be the exertion_ , he thought, when he saw the blush on her cheeks as she nodded. 

 

They took up speed, he now skating backwards, as they danced, this way and that, and when it came time to twirl her, he lifted her instead, using his momentum to launch her into the air. For a brief, terrifying moment he doubted her, but her smile was irresistible as she landed on one foot. She put the other behind her, parallel to the floor like she had that first day and skated backwards. _Catch me if you can_ , that smile said. 

 

Robb Stark never reneged on a challenge so he took off after her, pulling her back to him. She curled her body in sympathy with his own and lifted one leg, wrapping it around his calf, her arm reaching back behind her to wrap around his neck. 

 

“So what do you think of The Wildlings?,” he asked in her ear, fighting the urge to press a kiss to her exposed neck as they travelled the rink, curled into one another. 

 

“I think they’re appropriately named,” she said. 

 

***

 

October 31, 2017.

 

“You’re the first person we’re showing it to, so be gentle, okay?,” Robb asked as he and Sansa got out of the car.

 

“I’m getting a _private performance_ by Myrcella Baratheon, Robb,” Sansa said, “I’ll be lucky if I don’t promise to be her slave.” _Me too_ , Robb thought. 

 

He never saw Ella when they weren’t practicing. Her mother had her on an insane schedule, between home-schooling and workouts, private training and mandatory _family time_. But after that day when they’d started to change the routine, he texted her. Every chance he got. 

 

She was the first person he told when he found out his best friend Jon had made the Olympic hockey team. _You’ll be there too, Robb. I know it’s not the way you wanted, but I don’t know what I’d do without you. I can’t promise to be *as* fun as your teammates, but I bet I smell better_ , she’d texted him. **Eau d’locker room’s got nothing on you,** he’d replied. She’d text him a picture of her lying on her floor, as though she’d fainted with the caption _Warn a girl before you kill her with flattery_.

 

Every day at practice she’d greet him with a critique on whatever music he’d recommended the day before. _“No way, track 7 is by far the best, I couldn’t stop dancing to it_ ,” she’d argue and scrunch her nose at him like he was an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. _“You’re right,”_ he’d say, because he’d be so busy picturing her dancing alone in her bedroom that he’d probably agree that the King’s Landing Crowns were better than the Winterfell Direwolves if she’d asked. 

 

To put it simply, he was suffering from the worst crush of his whole life. 

 

“She’s something else,” he said to his sister though, “But you’ll see, you were right, she’s _nice_ , she was the one who suggested you bring your skates.”

 

Sansa’s answering smile and complete body vibration had him laughing as they made their way into the rink, his arm slung around her. 

***

 

 _Be cool, just be cool_ , Myrcella thought as she sat on the bleachers, in her skates already, wearing a black leotard and a fuzzy white sweater. _How can I be cool when I’m about to meet the single most important person in his life?_

 

Robb talked about Sansa all the time. She knew she skated, that she liked lemon cakes and her dog Lady, that she’d hand stitched the Direwolf decoration on his skate bag. She knew that she was their father’s favourite and her sister’s _least_ favourite. And she knew that Robb loved her with his whole heart. 

 

She heard them before she saw them, laughing together, and when they came in they could have been twin gods if not for their athletic gear. 

 

“Ella, hey!,” Robb said, his whole face breaking into a smile. Her heart did a little flip flop at the nickname he’d given her a couple weeks back, _No offence, but that name of yours is a mouthful, and a little too formal for you but if you don’t like it I can call you princess, sweetheart, anything you want_. She’d died a little inside at _sweetheart_ , but had told him that Ella was fine, that she liked it, which she did, but she really meant _I like you. Like a lot. A lot a lot._

 

 _“_ Hi!,” she said and then turned to the girl beside him, “You must be Sansa - wait, I know you! Didn’t I meet you at last years Regionals?”

 

The girl blushed but gave her a breathtaking smile, “Yes! The routine you did that day was _so_ beautiful…”

 

 _If only my mother thought so_ , she thought, thinking back to the hour long lecture she’d received about keeping her arms light. 

 

“Thank you! You skated to Claire de Lune, right? In that _too-die-for_ white costume?,” she asked, thinking of how her mother had said _See even that Stark girl was so graceful_ , “Your Biellmanns were,” then turned to Robb and in an inside joke said, “ _How do you say, how do you say?_ ”

 

“Iiiiincredible?,” Robb asked, stroking his chin as if contemplating, “Feeehntasteek?”

 

Sansa was looking at them like they were a bit mad, and Myrcella blushed and said, “Anyway, it’s so nice to see you again. You’re all Robb talks about.”

 

“You know, Ella,” Sansa said with a small smile, “I was going to say the same thing about you.”

 

She must have imagined the sharp look Robb gave his favourite sibling. 

 

***

 

When the last notes of the song ended, Robb let Myrcella up from the dip he’d had her in. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright and she was so beautiful that he wasn’t sure if he was holding her steady or the other way around. 

 

They stared at each other for a moment, both breathing rapidly. They always seemed to end the routine this way. It was a complex routine, the most daring he’d ever done, and they’d put it to a lyric-less song by The Wildlings that alternated between quick, heavy energy and slow yearning that allowed them to control the building drama of it. 

 

 _It’s a hunt_ , Ella had said once they’d planned it out. 

 

 _It’s a love story_ , he’d argued. 

 

_Haven’t you read the Classics, Robb? They’re one in the same._

 

She was right, like always. He chased her around the the rink, pulling her towards him and setting her free in increasing intensity. It ended with her surrender, a moment that never failed to unnerve him, when suddenly she came towards him, and balanced the back of her hand against his cheek, his hand on her waist, one leg behind her as he skated backwards. As the final notes would end he would dip her slowly, and she would skate on one leg, seemingly fearless, with her head only inches from the ground. 

 

They were broken out of their moment with Sansa’s clapping. Ella grinned at him and turned to his sister. 

 

“It’s so good it makes me want to _die_ ,” Sansa said. 

 

“Aaaahh,” Ella said and the two girls, one in sneakers, one in skates, jumped up and down in excitement. “Now pick a song and get that cute butt out here.”

 

Sansa hurriedly pulled on her skates and chose a song, _track 7_ , which earned him a look from Ella as if to say _What did I tell you?_

 

“Ooh will you show me that back bend thing that you do?,” Sansa asked.

 

“Oh yes, okay so we’re going to start skating and then I’m going to take one hand and put it on the small of your back and I want you to just lean. But you have to trust me, okay?,” Ella said and then she looked at Robb, “I know you’re precious cargo to this one, I won’t let you fall.”

 

*

 

On the ride home, once Sansa had finally gotten the car to _peak heat conditions_ , she turned to him and asked, “So when are you going to tell her?”

 

“Tell her what?,” he asked, though he very much knew. 

 

“That you _l-o-o-ove_ her,” Sansa cooed. 

 

“She’s my partner, Sansa,” he said, stating the obvious to avoid answering her. 

 

“Partners to lovers, a tale as old as time,” she said, putting a hand to her forehead and pretending to swoon against the seat. 

 

“You’re a nut,” he said with a chuckle.

 

“And you, dear brother, are a goner.”


	8. A Matched Pair: Chapter 3

 

November 13, 2017. 

 

“No way,” Robb said. 

 

“Come _on_ , I dare you,” she said. 

 

“You don’t really think that’s going to work, do you?,” he asked her, as though he was _mature_ , as though he was physically capable of not answering a dare. 

 

“I’ll wait,” she said, one of her hands holding his while she held up the other to examine her nails. Of course, she was speeding along on the rink, knowing full well that Robb wouldn’t let her crash. 

 

“You’re a pest,” he said, but he was grinning, “Fine, you _win_. Now how do we do this?”

 

“Okay so, when I count to three, just hop,” she said, and when he glared at her she scrunched her nose at him, “You know, like the cute little bunny you are,” she teased.

 

She _loved_ teasing Robb. He was just so _cool_ , always coming in on Sunday afternoons with some crazy story from a college party the night before, always wearing some bands new t-shirt, always just so _him_. But she’d discovered that she had a knack for making him blush and she delighted in it. 

 

“This is ridiculous…you realise you are gambling with our chances to go to the Olympics just to prove a point?,” he asks her.

 

“What exactly about that is surprising?,” she asked him, moving in front of him and holding his other hand, letting him push them both. 

 

There was nothing like Robb leading her around the ice. She had always felt free on the ice, now she felt adventurous too. Though somehow still safer than she’d ever been. 

 

“Fine, fine,” he said and whipped her around. 

 

“ _One, two, three!_ ,” she said and all of a sudden felt his weight on her, as he hopped on her back, his arms around her shoulders like a monkey.

 

“By the gods, El,” he said in her ear. 

 

“Told you,” she said victoriously. He had scoffed when she told him that she could carry him on the ice. 

 

“I’m getting down now,” he said.

 

Before she’d had time to register that he’d gotten off of her back, she was being lifted until he was cradling her in his arms. He slowed, circling the rink leisurely. 

 

She rested her arm on his shoulder, “Is this restoring your masculinity?,” she asked. 

 

“It is, thanks,” he said and she giggled. 

 

His face lit up in a grin and she pushed a curl off of his face. His blue eyes darkened when she did, and she could feel the heat of his palms through her leotard. There was a knot in her stomach as she realised how very close they were, and if she wasn’t mistaken he was getting closer but then-

 

“ _Myrcella Baratheon_ ,” she heard her mother shout from across the rink. 

 

***

 

 _Well that was the coldest bucket of water of all time_ , Robb thought as he placed Ella down carefully. _No, not Ella, Myrcella_ , he corrected. 

 

Ella was only Ella if her mother wasn’t around. That woman turned her screws until she was a walking, talking, etiquette guide. _Even the way she skates changes_ , he thought as the girl who had only moments earlier taught him to do the running man on skates, skated as though there was a string attached to her head, gliding gracefully. 

 

He followed her, taking care to use his best form as well, because while he found Cersei Lannister _detestable_ he didn’t want to do anything that would give her the opportunity to replace him. 

 

“Hello mother,” he heard her say sweetly, “We were just cooling off.”

 

“Cooling off?,” her mother asked her, though she looked at Robb. He made sure to give nothing away, though he was pretty sure his face still screamed _Well actually if you hadn’t come in here I was going to kiss the girl of my dreams for the first time_. He thought he’d seen Ella’s eyes trail down to his lips. “Yes well, if you’re all _cooled off_ for the day, we better be going.”

 

“Oh um, actually,” Robb said, regretted speaking immediately from the glare Cersei gave him. “My mother asked if I might bring El-Myrcella to dinner tonight? My whole family will be there and they’ve been dying to meet her.”

 

“That’s out of the question, I’m afraid,” Cersei said, though she didn’t look afraid at all, “Myrcella has homework to do this evening.”

 

_It’s a Saturday night, you control-freak._

 

“I finished my homework earlier though, Mother,” Myrcella pointed out with a blush. 

 

“Your High Valyrian?,” Cersei asked.

 

“Kessa, mirre hen ziry,” Ella said and Robb bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. 

 

Cersei still noticed, and said, “Surely not your literature…”

 

“I left my essay on _Aemon’s Travels_ in the study before we left,” she said a _tad_ indignantly if Robb wasn’t mistaken. _What’s happening to you,_ he thought in wonder.

 

“I see…,” Cersei said, obviously trying to think of another excuse. 

 

“I’ll drive her home myself, whatever time you want,” he said. 

 

“Maybe 11?,” Ella volunteered and he almost gasped. _Nice try._

 

Cersei seemed to be considering it carefully, and he was fully sure that she’d say no, but then she said, _“_ I’ll see you at 10, young lady, and not a moment later, is that clear?”

 

Cersei almost smiled when Ella bounded forward and kissed her cheek. _Almost_.

 

***

 

_So this is what it’s like to ride in a car with a boy. An older boy. A hot older boy._

 

Robb’s car was big, like him, a grey SUV that was much cleaner than she expected. Not that Robb was _dirty_ or anything, but he was 19.

 

“Are you sure your mother won’t mind my coming in this?,” she asked, gesturing to the black yoga pants and cream zip up she had on. 

 

“My mom will be lucky if Rickon agrees to wear a shirt to the dinner table,” he said with a grin, _Mom._ “She’ll just be so excited you’re there, she’s been wanting to meet you for ages now…and besides, you could wear a trash bag and you’d look great.”

 

“You know I think I have one in my bag if you think I should change…,” she joked, ignoring the somersault her stomach was doing.

 

They chatted about his family on the drive, and the landscape started to change. Their region was so odd, that in the valley where his home was, snow already piled up, though hers had only had a light dusting earlier that week that had quickly given way to rain. 

 

The landscaped looked like a fairytale, all rolling hills and icicles hanging from trees. He turned down a narrow drive and slowed as the pavement gave way to gravel. 

 

“This is your house?,” she asked, looking at the idyllic home from a bygone era, made of ancient stones. 

 

“This is home,” he said and she could here the reverence in his voice. “What do you think?,” he asked and if she wasn’t mistaken he looked a bit nervous.

 

“I think it’s _magical,_ ” she breathed out and then blushed. _Way to sound like a five year old._

 

“Oh you have no idea,” he said with a grin though. 

 

_No, but I can’t wait to find out._

 

***

 

“Ella!,” Sansa called as he and Ella entered the house. 

 

“Hii!,” Ella exclaimed back as the girls hugged. They’d exchanged numbers that day and had been texting constantly.

 

“Oh, Robb, is that you?,” his mother called, coming into the front hall. 

 

“Mom…this uh… is _Ella_ ,” he said, cursing the way he said her name. 

 

“Oh, Ella, I’ve heard _so_ much about you,” his mother said and ignored Ella’s outstretched hand and gave her a quick hug. 

 

Ella blushed but smiled brightly, “And I you, Mrs. Stark, thank you so much for welcoming into your home.”

 

“Do you see, children?,” his mother asked him and Sansa as though in reprimand, “ _That_ is what manners look like. Oh and please, dear, call me Catelyn,” she said and offered Ella another smile before heading back to the kitchen. 

 

Sansa rolled her eyes and hooked her arm through Ella’s, “She’s so full of it, Robb and I are the best ones, the others are totally _beasts_ ,” she said lovingly. 

 

Ella turned back and gave him a breathtaking smile as his sister lead her away. That smile might as well have been a magnet, because his feet carried him forward as though pulled by force.

 

They went into the great room, where his younger siblings were laying on the couches, in varying degrees of cleanliness _and Ella was afraid of coming like that._ The dogs were all piled on, only Grey Wind, his, and Lady, the flirt, came over to greet them. 

 

“Ella this is Arya, Bran, and Rickon,” he said and his siblings lifted their hands in greeting, barely taking their eyes off the television. Ella waved shyly at them and looked down as Grey Wind started nuzzling her leg. _I know, boy._ “And uh, this handsome devil is Grey Wind.”

 

Ella knelt down to survey the shepherd/husky mix, “Did you know your daddy talks about you _all_ the time?,” she asked him. Grey Wind’s tail started thwacking in reverse. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said seriously and then let out a surprised giggle when Grey Wind took the opportunity to lick her from jaw to forehead. 

 

“I’d uh… say the feeling’s mutual,” Robb said. 

 

He didn’t tell her that he’d told Grey Wind all about her too, not that he believed the dog really _understood_ the words that he said. But he knew Ella’s smell, for Robb knew he often came home with a hint of jasmine on his clothes from all the ways he’d held her, _and he knows_ _me_ he thought as Ella scratched behind his ears and he looked up at him as if to say, _Do something about it or I will._

 

_***_

 

Dinner at the Stark’s was, brilliant, heartwarming, chaos. 

 

There were five children in all, and as Robb warned, they each had a dog of their own that demanded a seat beneath them (though Robb had also mentioned that over the course of the meal they would all crowd under Rickon’s, the baby of the family, who was the most likely to drop things. All but Lady, who ate daintily but steadily from Sansa’s lowered hand.). Then there was Catelyn and _Ned_ as Robb’s father had introduced himself as, who sat on either side end of the table, chiding and congratulating their children in an on-going merry-go-round. 

 

Ella sat in between Robb and Sansa, the two of them translating the conversations happening all around them.

 

“Gendry,” Arya would say, and Robb would lean in and whisper, “Her best friend,” while Sansa would lean in and correct, “Her boyfriend actually but don’t say anything.”

 

All of a sudden, after the salads had been cleared, the dogs all started barking until another dog, all white and silent, came in in a mass of wagging tails and sniffing noses. 

 

“Jon!,” Arya shouted and got up from the table to go greet the new addition.

 

“ _Jon_ , _Jon?,_ ” Ella whispered to Sansa who blushed and swiped a finger across her mouth. Ella looked back at her and using her thumb and index finger made a key-turning motion at hers.

 

 _Okay, I get it now_ , she thought as _Jon_ walked in. He had olive skin and inky black curls tied back in a bun, wearing just a black t-shirt despite the cold and tight black jeans. 

 

He’d almost be scary looking if Arya wasn’t on his back and he didn’t ruffle Rickon’s hair as he walked by and he didn’t turn to Catelyn as though she were his own mother and say, “I’m so sorry, Cat, I got held up, I should have called.”

 

“That’s alright, darling, I’m just glad you’re here,” she said but he smacked a kiss on her cheek in apology anyway. 

 

“Stark,” he said, looking at Robb. 

 

“Snow,” Robb greeted. When Jon’s eyes fell on her she gave him a nervous smile. “This is Ella…”

 

“Ella,” Jon said to her though he was smiling at Robb, “Well it is an _honour_ Miss Baratheon.”

 

“All mine, Mr. Snow,” she said and he grinned at her. 

 

He plopped in the empty chair next to Arya, stealing one of the carrots off her plate, and the conversation went on from there. 

 

She resumed eating, enjoying the happy chatter all around her, until she felt Robb’s eyes on her. She turned to him and he had a curious look on his face. She draped her head to the side and scrunched her nose at him, which broke him out of it and he offered her a small smile. She grinned back at him, _thank you, for bringing me here_ , she hoped it said. 

 

Bran asked her a question, so she missed the look Catelyn had given her and Robb.

 

***

 

“How about boys vs girls?,” Rickon suggested. 

 

“There are four of you and three of us,” Arya pointed out. 

 

“Which means it _mayyy_ be a fair fight,” Ella said, causing his sisters to cackle.

 

“Those are fighting words, Miss Baratheon,” Jon said with a small smile. 

 

“As I intended, Mr. Snow,” Ella said, putting her hands imperiously on her hips (the light pink mittens made her only _slightly_ less regal). 

 

“Alright, alright,” Robb said, “Girls vs boys it is.”

 

They were out on the lake, already deeply frozen, they’d turned on all the lanterns and had set it up for their favourite post-dinner tradition, _frozen capture the flag_. All of his siblings, Jon, and Ella were bundled up with skates on their feet, the dogs huddled in a pack off to the side. 

 

They all settled into their spots, and it just so _happened_ that he was nearest Ella. 

 

“You ready for this, princess?,” he asked her with a grin. 

 

“Just try not to get hurt,” she said, as though the subject bored him, “We’ve got an Olympics to win.”

 

He grinned at her. She’d charmed his whole family at dinner. For someone who was so often on her own, she had an ability to captivate everyone in a room. 

 

“Go!,” Arya shouted. 

 

Ella smiled and started skating backwards, moving in serpentines almost lazily. He didn’t let her out of his sight, after over a month training with her, he knew when she was planning mischief. 

 

Bran made a break for it and Arya nearly collided with him as she ripped the tassel off his belt. Rickon tried and Sansa kissed him on the nose as she sent him to jail. 

 

The girls had cut their team in half while hardly moving an inch. _Two against three_ , he thought as he looked at Jon. 

 

Arya took their communication as an invitation and started skating, full steam ahead. _By the gods she’s quick_ , he thought as he and Jon took after her. 

 

 _Amateurs_ , he thought as Arya giggled wickedly as they both caught her at the same time. He looked across and noticed Sansa near the flag. Jon was already making strides toward her, so seeing an opportunity he moved towards the girls’ side. 

 

He could see Ella out of the corner of his eye skating towards him and he urged on harder. She was a powerful skater, but his sheer momentum carried him quicker. He was nearing the flag when like a _lunatic_ she leapt and his arms, trained both in muscle memory and a fervent need to keep her from harm, went out to catch her. 

 

She dipped, arching her back like she’d taught Sansa, and in the most predictable and surprising move of all time, ripped the tassel from his belt.

 

“Goooo GOOOOOOOO,” he heard Arya shouting and they turned to see Sansa, with Jon at her heels, flag in hands, crossing the line back to her side. 

 

“You girls don’t fight fair,” he said in her ear. There were snowflakes in her hair and her cheeks were pink and he was still holding her and it felt so good to do so, to see her be _Ella_ completely around him. 

 

She turned to look at him, and this time he was _sure_ he saw her eyes travel to his lips before she looked him in the eyes with a small smirk and asked, “Now what would be the fun in that?”

 

***

 

 _I don’t want to go home_ , she thought as she sat in Robb’s passenger seat.

 

“I don’t want to take you home,” Robb said and she turned to him, not entirely sure she hadn’t spoken. But he was looking at her like he was nervous, which told her she hadn’t.

 

“It is only 9:00…,” she said softly. 

 

It had been Robb’s idea to take her home a bit early, _That way, your mother maybe won’t fight so hard next time_. She’d been so busy doing the internal happy dance at _next time_ that she’d agreed. 

 

“Can I take you somewhere?,” he asked her.

 

 _Anywhere_ , she thought but only nodded. 

 

He turned down a side lane, and stopped the car as they got to a great white tree with blood red leaves. He turned of the car but left the lights on.

 

“Wait here,” he said as he got out. 

 

She waited and nearly jumped when he appeared on her side of the car, but unbuckled her seatbelt as he opened the door and offered her his hand. There was no denying the electricity she felt when their hands connected now, but it was bubbling with an anticipation she’d never dared have. 

 

“This tree is older than Westoros,” he said as he brought them closer to it, “Older even than Valyria, some say,” he said, naming the city no longer on modern maps. 

 

She let go of his hand reluctantly and stepped forward, reaching out with her fingertips to place them gently on the trunk. _How many things have you seen, old friend?_

 

“IfyouturnaroundI’mgoingtokissyou,” she heard him blurt out. 

 

“What?,” she asked with a tremor in her usually steady voice. 

 

She felt him walk up behind her, felt his hands gently holding her waist. 

 

“I know we’re partners, and you’re mother won’t approve, but I don’t _care_. So, Ella Baratheon, if you turn around, I’m going to kiss you,” he said, “I’ll count to five and if you don’t turn around, I’ll drive you home and when I see you at practice on Monday we’ll forget it ever happened. Either way, we are _going_ to the Olympics. Nothing will change that. So…One-“

 

He didn’t have time to get to two before she’d turn around and she didn’t have time to look in his eyes before his lips touched hers. 

 

*

 

When she got home at 10:06, it was worth the lecture her mother gave her, because when she crawled into bed and pressed her fingers to her lips, she could still feel the steady pressure, could still imagine his fingers in her hair. 

 

Her phone buzzed and she was grinning like an idiot before she’d even read the messages.

 

**_Robb: Just so you know, that was the longest second of my life._ **

 

**_Robb: But I would have waited for as long as it took._ **

 

**_Ella: You never needed to wait at all._ **


	9. One More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @jeynewesterling on Tumblr
> 
> Jon, Sansa, Robb and Ella decide to make some drunken confessions.

 

“I only stabbed him a _little_ ,” Ella argued with a giggle, and then a hiccup, and then turned to her boyfriend and said, “And you _know_ it.”

 

“You don’t have to defend yourself to _me_ , sweetheart,” Robb said, pulling her against him and said, “I would have helped you bury the body and _you_ know it,” he said holding her to him by one cheek and pressing a kiss to the other. 

 

“Ooh ooh tell them about what Grey Wind did to you the first time we slept together,” Ella says with a girlish giggle, but Robb is already picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. 

 

“I uh, think it’s time we call it a night,” Robb said to Jon and Sansa. 

 

Ella though, not to be deterred, smacked his butt and said, “Don’t be _sad_ , the bite marks heeled.”

 

Robb turned and carried her out, and the whole time she was pointing at Robb’s ass as if to say _right there, he bit him right there_ , in between blowing them kisses. 

 

Sansa giggled at her best friend’s antics, checking the bottles to see if they housed any more alcohol. 

 

“One more?,” she asked him, those blue eyes of hers only slightly glazed as she waved a full bottle of red wine at him. 

 

For how many different reasons had she asked him that in the lifetime he’d known her? _One more?,_ she’d asked when they’d gone apple picking on her family’s property and he’d held her up to reach the ones she wanted. _One more?_ She’d asked at the bottom of Last Hearth Ski Mountain, urging him back into the gondola for another run. _One more?_ , she’d ventured, when he’d asked her if she thought he’d punched Ramsay enough times after he’d hit her. 

 

“Give it ere,” he said gruffly, opening the bottle for her and refilling their glasses. Jon had learned long ago that the answer to that question, when it came from Sansa Stark, was always _Yes_. 

 

“I _can’t_ believe she stabbed Joffrey,” Sansa said, easing back down next to him on the couch in his and Robb’s apartment. 

 

“I was there _believe_ it,” Jon said. 

 

He’d never forget walking into the Lannister’s kitchen and seeing an 8 year old Ella nursing Joffrey’s wounds. _I only poked him little_ , she said innocently. _With a knife!,_ Joffrey cried. _Well you shouldn’t attack someone if you don’t know how to defend yourself,_ Ella had mused and it was then that Jon had seen the bruises forming on her arms. Jon and Robb had given them back to him in kind, and the boy never hurt his sister again, but he’d learned then that Ella Baratheon didn’t need _anyone_ to defend her. Not that it had stopped him and Robb on multiple occasions. 

 

Sansa giggled, “Well, Mr. Snow, I think it is your turn, _Confess!_ ”

 

The four best friends had had a rather drunken night. They were up at the Starks’ ski house and all the other kids, as well as Mr and Mrs Stark had gone to be hours ago. With the girls still in their senior year of high school and him and Robb in their sophomore of college, they’d had lots to catch up on, and had spent every night with a different goal in mind. Last night the girls had convinced them to play truth or dare. The night before had been karaoke. Tonight was _True Confessions_. 

 

Jon explored the recesses of his mind. What could you confess to the girl you’d known her whole life? What secrets didn’t she know? _You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve been wanting to kiss those lips of yours since I’ve wanted to kiss anyone. I think I’ve been in love with you my whole life_.

 

“Once…,” Jon says instead, “I um…walked in on your dad changing,” he said with a blush. 

 

Sansa threw back her head and laughed, revealing that long neck of hers. But then she turned to him, faux-solemnly, placing both of her hands on his shoulders and looking deep into his eyes. _Oh god oh god oh god._

 

 _“_ I’m so sorry that happened to you. It wasn’t your _fault_ ,” she said and started to giggle when he scrunched his nose at her. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, your turn,” he said as she settled back, a safer distance from him. 

 

“Hmmm,” she said, tapping her slender index finger against the lips that he could lose hours thinking about. She turns to him, an apology on her eyes, “Sometimes, I kidnap Ghost.”

 

He starts to laugh at her and she smacks him with a pillow. 

 

“What?!,” she asks indignantly. 

 

“You think I didn’t _know_ that?,” Jon asks her, looking at his dog who was curled up at her feet. “He comes back smelling like you. I’ve walked into your bedroom and found you _spooning_ him. Come on Dove,” he said, looking at her, “Tell me something I _don’t_ know.”

 

Sansa looked at him and took a sip of wine. 

 

“IthinkI’minlovewithyou,” she said and then took another sip. 

 

Jon was relieved he hadn’t been drinking his because it would have sputtered out in a comical-if-not-embarassing fashion. 

 

“You…think…you’re…what?,” he asked, like an idiot. _Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!_

 

“I,” she said, a small smile on her face, as though speaking to a moron, “Think…I’m…In…Love…With…You.”

 

Jon cleared his throat. _Sansa Stark is in love with me. Sansa Stark is in love with me. SANSA STARK IS SITTING ON THIS COUCH AND SHE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU._

 

He moved closer to her, breathed in the scent that was so uniquely _her._ Her eyes got wide as he pulled her closer, her earlier bravado gone.

 

“You, Sansa Stark, love me?,” he asked her, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand tucking a lock of silky red hair behind her ears. 

 

“Is that okay?,” she asked him. 

 

“That’s okay,” he said, rubbing his nose against hers.

 

There lips met and he saw his life flash before his eyes, she the bright beating heart of it. 

 

He pulled away from her and she pulled him back gently. 

 

“One more?,” she asked against his lips.

 

And Jon answered her like he always did. 


	10. A Matched Pair Chapter 4

 

 

December 1, 2017

 

“Myrcella are you even _listening_ to me?,” her mother asked as Myrcella unzipped her jacket, stretching her legs. 

 

“Of course I am Mother,” she said, though she hadn’t been. It didn’t matter, her mother had been repeating herself for days. “Soft arms, pointed toes.”

 

“El-Myrcella hey!,” Robb said as he joined them in their designated waiting area. 

 

“Hi Robb,” she said, her heart going a mile a minute, while her mother only grimaced. 

 

“I want Qyburn to look at you before you go on,” her mother said, rising to go find the doctor she relied so heavily on. 

 

“ _Hi_ ,” she said again to Robb as her mother left them alone. 

 

“Hi Ella,” he said with a grin, sitting down next to her and lacing his fingers through hers. “Nervous?”

 

Ella shook her head with a smile. She’d been competing since she was six years old. Robb though, hadn’t. “Are you?”

 

“Terrified,” he confided and she smiled, squeezing his hand. 

 

“Forget about them,” she said, gesturing to the crowd and the judges. “It’s just you and me on Winterfell pond.”

 

He smiled at her and nodded, a real breathtaking smile and he squeezed her hand in return. 

 

She wanted to kiss him. They’d only gotten to a handful of times since that first even though they spent nearly every day together. It was enough to make a girl go crazy.

 

“So who is our competition?,” Robb asked her. 

 

Ella surveyed the different pairs around the rink and pointed subtly to the waiting area next them. 

 

“Where to begin…well you see that sadistic looking fellow over there? That’s _Ramsay…_ ”

 

*

 

**_Announcer 1: Next up we have Ramsay Bolton and Myranda Knaught. Myranda is a new partner for Ramsay, after poor Tansy Spry had that terrible fall on the ice over the summer. Myranda is a powerhouse though, just as daring as Ramsay on the ice, and just as wild as he is off of it supposedly._ **

 

**_Announcer 2: I’ve heard their opening sequence was nearly banned due to how risky it was. They are gaining speed now, and Oh! Look how close her head got to the ice but she is up. Perfect double axels._ **

 

**_Announcer 1: Now this lift is the only one they missed in practice…not today though._ **

 

**_Announcer 2: A daring, perfect skate. The judges will have a hard time finding fault in their technique, but where they may lose points is in presentation. The judges like a smile._ **

 

**_*_ **

 

**_Announcer 1: Ah don’t they look lovely? Margery and Loras Tyrell, the brother-and-sister duo expected to take the Gold at this year’s games. They are unstoppable, the crowds love them, the judges love them… I love them._ **

 

**_Announcer 2: I know you do…_ **

 

**_Announcer 1: Oh just look at that first lift, such a soft landing! Some beautiful double lutzs coming up._ **

 

**_Announcer 2: This is what the Tyrell’s are known for. Beautiful, clean skates. Not always the most daring, not always the most interesting, but quality and poise always._ **

 

**_*_ **

 

**_Announcer 1: Here she is, the golden girl of figure skating. I’ve been watching her skate since she was - what?_ **

 

**_Announcer 2: Oh 7? Maybe 8? Such discipline. Such grace. Now Myrcella lost her partner Trystane Martell earlier this year to an injury and had to scramble to find a new one. Many were surprised when she took on an unknown, Robb Stark as her partner. Now fans of other skating will know him as an Olympic and Professional hopeful in Hockey, but he is otherwise untested. I did have the chance to sit down with them earlier this week and they are very hopeful._ **

 

**_Announcer 1: The song is an unconventional choice for Myrcella, she often chooses very light, simple music that puts her skating at the forefront. Now you got to see a bit of this, didn’t you?_ **

 

**_Announcer 2: Just a bit during their practice and I tell you it is unlike anything I’ve seen before. Watch this first combination -_ **

 

**_Announcer 1: Oh!_ **

 

**_Announcer 2: Look how high he gets her. That is the Myrcella Baratheon we know, sure-footed and always so elegant._ **

 

**_Announcer 1: This Robb is a powerhouse… do you see that precision in the way he holds her one handed?_ **

 

**_Announcer 2: Now this bit here, look at the way her fingers trail the ice…such a simple, delicate manoeuvre that speaks to their absolute comfort with one another._ **

 

**_Announcer 1: They have won this crowd over, do you hear that? Let’s see if the judges agree._ **

 

*******

 

He’d done the routine with Ella what had to be a thousand times, but nothing could have prepared him for what he’d seen on the ice. What she’d become. 

 

He had watched some of her old competitions online, so he knew to expect  the way she came to life in front of a crowd, but what he didn’t know to expect was the intimacy that came from being with someone, on your own in a rink surrounded by people.

 

She was his partner, his _life line,_ and all of his nerves had gone away as he’d given into the routine naturally. He pursued her around the rink, not only because that is what he was meant to do but because he was desperate to feel her in his arms again. She gave him a little smile, teasing him as he threw her away from him, landing elegantly on one foot and skating backwards, her arm outstretched beckoning him forward. 

 

As the song ended, it was she that finally chased him, leaping sure and steady into his arms. 

 

“Still terrified?,” she asked as the audience broke into applause. She was breathing heavily, they both were, as he held her to him, but there was a smile on her face and those green eyes of hers were searching his, as though the audience, as though the judges didn’t exist. 

 

“More than ever,” he admitted, but he was smiling too as he set her down. 

 

They turned towards the judges and bowed, holding hands as they waited for their score. 

 

He didn’t even see the number, all he heard was the applause from the crowd and then Ella was in his arms, her’s wrapped around his neck.

 

_We’re going to the Olympics._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you have asked for me to turn this into it's own fic, and I'm still contemplating it, but not sure I can stand having another official WiP. Hope you enjoy anyway!


	11. Cliches

 

 

 _This is such a cliche_ , Jon thought as he wandered through the sea of his classmates.

 

He’d always found it unbelievable in 90s teen movies when there were high school parties held at mansions more suitable to _Cribs_ than a small suburban town. Yet here he was, at the sprawling home of Theon Greyjoy, which had always had the perfect combination of square footage and no parents.

 

Except for the synchronised dance number, this party was straight out of a 90s movie - whether it was a rom-com or a slasher flick would only be determined in time. There were football players doing keg stands in the living room, couples grinding on the makeshift dance floor, two sophomore girls making out in a misguided attempt to make the senior guys like them. _Now all we need is a crying cheerleader…_ Jon thought.

 

“Just leave me ALONE!,” he heard as though he’d conjured it.

 

The cheerleader in question was the most beautiful girl in school, with lush red hair and dizzying blue eyes and legs that went on for miles. But she was no ordinary cheerleader, she was _Sansa Stark_. The eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark and the favourite sister of his best friend, Robb.

 

She ran into the bathroom, not having seen him at all. Her boyfriend, Joffrey, clearly didn’t either because he banged on the bathroom door.

 

“Get _OUT_ here, you cunt! Nobody walks away from me,” Joffrey shouted at her.

 

Jon saw red, he heard sirens in his mind. He briefly understood that this is what Arya meant when she said that he went all _angry kitten,_ though in this moment he felt more like a wolf as he stalked him.

 

“Oh Baratheon, you are going to _wish_ that wasn’t true,” he growled as he placed his hand on Joffrey’s shoulder and whirled him around.

 

“What do you want, Bast-,” Joffrey started but the rest fell on Jon’s fist as it connected with his jaw. It wasn’t much of a fight, Joffrey was down after the first hit and Jon kicked him once for good measure.

 

“San?,” Jon called, tapping Robb’s secret knock on the door. “Dove?”

 

“Robb go away!,” Sansa cried.

 

He opened the door slightly, covering his eyes in case she had actually gone in there to do what the room was built for.

 

“It’s not Robb it’s Jon,” he stated.

 

“I realise that, I’m not the one with my eyes closed…,” she said and though she was sniffling he could hear a smile somewhere in there.

 

He uncovered them blushing. He was such an idiot. Only an idiot would fall for their best friend’s little sister.

 

“What did he do to you?,” he asked her.

 

She sighed, walking over to the mirror and wiping away the mascara that trailed down her cheeks.

 

“Turns out he was dating Marg as well…,” she explained, as though it didn’t really matter.

 

“Stuuupid fuck,” Jon mumbled under his breath.

 

She turned around, leaning her perfect backside against the sink and resting one long leg over the other, the skirt of her black dress fanning with her.

 

“What was that, Snow?,” she asked, the smile visible now.

 

“He’s an idiot,” he said.

 

“An idiot?,” Sansa repeated with a quirk of her brow. “Not an asshole? Or a douchebag?”

 

He wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this, but he thought that Joffrey was all that and more so he shook his head.

 

“No of course he’s those things, it’s just…,” and when the light danced in her eyes he knew. _She knows_.

 

“Just?,” she asked, pushing herself off of the sink and stepping towards him.

 

He backed away like a coward, until he felt the towel rack uncomfortable at his spine.

 

“ _Sansa_ ,” he breathed as she crowded him. They hadn’t touched but his skin was on fire.

 

“Margery is beautiful, Jon,” Sansa noted, as though she were speaking to a five year old. “And clever, awfully clever…she’s -“

 

“She’s not you.,” he stated obviously, unambiguously, stupidly.

 

“Maybe that’s what he likes about her,” she suggested.

 

She was looking at him with those blue eyes and she smelled like lavender and the laundry detergent Mrs. Stark always used, and she was the girl who had asked him to hold her hand walking home after campfires as well as the one who haunted every one of his daydreams and she was so very close and to him it seemed like she wouldn’t mind getting closer still.

 

“ _That_ , Sansa Stark, is why he’s an idiot,” Jon said finally. They stood there just breathing at one another, and then she bit her lip and he decided _fuck it_ , if he was going to hell then he would enjoy his damnation. “Anyone who has you and looks elsewhere is an _idiot_ , hell anyone who doesn’t have you and looks elsewhere is an idiot. You are the rose of this bleak wasteland we call home, you’re _it_. You are all there is.”

 

The kiss was soft and slow, but it set wildfire in his veins all the same. He held her like she was glass, afraid that one wrong move would shatter her, shatter this, and it was she who deepened it, growling into his mouth and reminding him that she was a wolf as well. When they pulled apart it was she that laughed first, but soon they were both there, standing in the truth of what had just happened.

 

After another kiss they exited the bathroom to find none other than Robb Stark, propped up by one hand against the wall, where Ella Baratheon stood with her back against it. She was shaking her head _no_ with that trademark giggle of hers, and only the sight of Jon and Sansa leaving a bathroom together could have pried Robb’s eyes away from her.

 

“Dovey?,” Ella asked nervously when she saw the remnants of mascara on her best friend’s cheeks. “What happened?”

 

“What the hell were you guys doing in there?,” Robb asked, though he stepped forward to survey his sister of any damage.

 

“Come on,” Sansa said, tugging Robb’s arm. “This party is lame, I’ll tell you all about it at the diner.”

 

Robb gave Jon a single glance before throwing his arm around his little sister and leading her out to the car.

 

Ella on the other hand hooked her arm through Jon’s elbow, wrapping her other around as well and leaned in.

 

“So Snow,” she whispered, “Did you finally make a move?”

 

“Did Robb?,” he asked her. “He’s my best friend, but you know I’ll crazy murder him for you any day of the week, right little one?”

 

“Oh Jon,” Ella said, leaning her head against his shoulder, “Best friends falling in love with best friends? We are _such_ a cliche.”

 

He couldn’t disagree with her, but just at that moment Sansa Stark turned her head and gave him a smile that landed somewhere down in his ribs, and for a moment, a brief moment, he thought that perhaps there were worse things than cliches.


	12. Technical Difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Tumblr post: Imagine your OTP stuck in an elevator after a fight.

“Ella,” he started even though everything from the way she had walked two feet in front of him on their way down the hall to the way she’d angrily pressed the button for the lobby told him it was the wrong thing to do.

 

“Don’t,” she said haughtily, “I think you’ve spoken _enough_ for one afternoon.”

 

He could see in these moments why the term ice princess was the one that followed her around in her teen years. When she was angry she was positively glacial, wrapping all of her poise and measuredness around her like armor.

 

He sighed, wondering how they were going to make the long drive home without tearing each other apart.

 

They always fought when they came South. There was something about returning to her home - to her _family_ if you could call them that - that always set her on edge and always made him more apt to fly off the handle. If there was one thing he knew about his fiance it’s that she hated a scene.

 

_Well she was sorely disappointed today then, wasn’t she, you asshat?_

 

He turned to apologise to her but just like that the elevator jolted and then stopped.

 

“Are you alright?,” he asked, his first thought - his only thought - as always was her safety.

 

“I’m fine,” she practically growled at him. “What did you do?”

 

“What did _I_ do?,” he asked her, “I pressed the button for the fucking lobby what do you _think_ I did?”

 

“Well you obviously did something,” she said primly, and went over to press the button again for the lobby. The light blinked with hope and then went out just as quickly. He should be flattered in a way, he supposed, that she thought he was capable of breaking an entire elevator just by pressing a button.

 

“I knew your grandfather was famous for building shotty buildings but I would have thought he’d want his _own_ elevator to work…,” he said and immediately regretted it for the flash of anger he saw in her green eyes.

 

“You’re a barbarian,” she spat at him.

 

“You sound just like your mother,” he spat back, because he wasn’t going down with a fight and _nothing_ goaded her like comparisons to her mother.

 

She picked up the emergency phone, “Hi, yes this is Myrcella Baratheon,” she said sweetly, she even had a smile on her face, “Yes _that_ Myrcella Baratheon, mmhm… well Sid, you see the reason I’m calling is that I’m in an elevator and it got stuck…mmhm…no. Robb Stark, yes we got engaged in October, mmhm…and you see Sid… if you don’t get us out of here promptly I’m afraid I will _murder_ him before I get the chance to walk down the aisle and my dress is _very_ pretty so… oh would you? Thank you, Sid. Yes, yes of course, yes I’ll tell my grandfather all about this just as soon as I’m out.”

 

“Friend of yours?,” Robb asked her and she glared at him but she could see that she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. _Melt for me, sweet girl._

 

“They’ll be here soon,” she said with a sigh, pulling her phone out of her bag and lifting it into the enclosed space trying to get a signal.

 

“I don’t think your Grandfather will be able to get us out of here any faster than the fire department,” he said bitterly, guessing who she was trying to reach.

 

“You’ve always underestimated him,” she said with a sigh.

 

“It’s more complicated than that, you know it is!,” he said vehemently.

 

“What? What is so _complicated_ about it?,” she said, her green eyes wide. “Why does it have to be more _complex_ than that? Why can’t it just be - my grandfather is walking me down the aisle?”

 

“Because you’re not his to give away!,” he yelled back, “You’re mine, you’re mine already, you belong to me just as I belong to you and I won’t HAVE it Ella. I will not have _that_ man hand you to me as though you were in his gift.”

 

“You won’t _have_ it?,” she reared on him, “What are you _putting your foot down_?”

 

“That’s right,” he growled, “I’m putting my foot down.”

 

“Well who gave you permission to do _that_?,” she asked.

 

She had a point. That wasn’t how _they_ worked. He heard a lot of his friends talking about “who wears the pants” in their relationships and he always wanted to say _Dude, it’s 2018, if you’re relationship is a competition you’ve got bigger problems._ They had never been like that, both of them always wanting to give to the other rather than take.

 

“Ella,” he said, taking the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “I know I don’t get to just _make_ decisions for us, but I’m asking you. Please don’t do this.”

 

“Tell me why,” she said softly. She hated being mad at him and never stayed so for long. “Give me one reason other than _Because he’s a bloody Lannister_.”

 

He looked at her, he didn’t want to do this. He wanted to protect her, that was his job. He didn’t want her to know what her family was really like.

 

“Because while you were in the bathroom he handed me a contract. A _prenup_. He said it was for your protection but… there is a clause in there Ella… it says all of our children have to choose on their eighteenth birthday which inheritance they want - your family’s or mine. I know you’d never agree to that it would create a divide in our fam-,”

 

“He gave you a WHAT?!,” she yelled. “How _dare_ he give you a prenup! Why would _we_ need a prenup? And he thinks he can control how _our babies_ live their lives? What the hell does he think he is the Master of Ceremonies for the whole fucking universe?”

 

“Ella,” he said, covering his mouth to hide his surprised chuckle. She was perfect, frustrating, stubborn, dizzying perfection and the sound of her saying _our babies_ had stirred something primal within him.

 

He should have known that she didn’t know about the prenup. Ella would have torn it up in his face, he realised now.

 

“Robb,” she said, rushing towards him, “I’m so sorry, sweetie, you were right to react the way that you did. They are horrible, _horrible_ people and they will be lucky if they get an invitation to the wedding at all - and they will stay the hell away from our kids if they know what’s good for them. Forgive me, _forgive me._ ”

 

“There’s nothing to forgive, baby,” he said, pulling her towards him, “Now say it again.”

 

“Say what? You were _right_?,” she teased.

 

“No, the thing about our kids…,” he said, his hand moving meaningfully down her back.

 

Something flashed in her brilliant green eyes and she said, standing on her tip toes and moving closer to his face, “They will stay the hell away from _our kids_ if they know what’s good for them, nobodies going to hurt our babies, Robb Stark. You’re going to keep us _all_ safe, aren’t you?”

 

He captured her mouth with his, kissing her ferociously and walking her backwards until he could slam her up against the wall. She let out a moan as he pushed her head back so he could clamp onto her neck, taking one of her thighs in his and wrapping it around his waist.

 

He moved his hand up her thigh, ready to rip her La Perla panties right off of her when he felt them moving again. He looked up and saw the numbers counting down.

 

“You just _had_ to namedrop, didn’t you?,” he grumbled.

 

With great effort he released her, and he wiped his mouth of her lipstick as she smoothed down her skirt. She placed her hand in his and he raised it to his lips, looking at her hungrily. She looked deliciously rumpled, he had always enjoyed messing her up when she was dressed so primly, and she bit her lip just to fuck with him in return.

 

When the elevator doors opened he saw her Uncle Jaime and her Grandfather waiting for them. He squeezed her hand and they stepped up, and he took some smug comfort in the fact that it was perfectly obvious what they had just been doing.

 

“Myrcella, Robb,” her grandfather said with his steely voice.

 

“Grandfather,” she said. “We’ll see you at the wedding. You’ll want to arrive early to get good seats. Ned is so excited to walk me down the aisle, you won’t want to miss a _moment_.”

 

Later, he would ask her if she meant it. His father would be so happy to escort her down the aisle, and it made sense, he who was her father’s greatest friend.

 

“Myrcella,” her grandfather started, “There is a way of doing things.”

 

“Yes, I’m aware of _your_ way of doing things,” she nodded, “My husband and I will have our own way. It would not be in your interest to question it. And _so help me_ if you try to exert your influence on our children I promise you - you’ll regret it.”

 

“Myrcella -,” her uncle started, clearly flabbergasted at the lioness before him.

 

“Smile Uncle,” she said as she started walking away, “There’s a new age upon us. It will be a time for wolves - and I suggest you both remember it… By the way, Sid is overdue for a raise.”

 

With that they left the building and as they walked under the overbearing sun of King’s Landing, he found he couldn’t wait to get back North.

 

“You are incredible,” he said in her ear, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him.

 

“Fuck the Lannisters,” she said looking up at him with heat in her eyes, “Take me home.”

 

He sighed, wondering how they were going to make the long drive home without tearing each other apart.


	13. Impossible Things

He was returning from the hunt, Grey Wind at his side. They had caught a boor and a deer, the latter by the king’s own hand, and the servants were returning with them to the castle now to be skinned and cured for a feast in two days time. The feast was to announce the betrothal of his little sister Sansa to the Prince Joffrey, which was not something Robb deemed worthy of celebration.

 

They were nearing the clearing when Grey Wind’s nose rose into the air.

 

“Come on, boy,” he said, “We’ve seen enough blood for one day.”

 

His normally obedient wolf ignored him and set chase away from the castle. He spurred his horse on, and was quick at Grey Wind’s heels when the wolf suddenly slowed into a tentative walk.

 

Robb was so busy glaring at the wolf that it took him longer to spot the small figure kneeling before the Weirwood tree, in her ice blue cloak with ermine trim, her golden curls spilling out underneath her cap. He dismounted as quietly as he could.

 

“ _Grey Wind_ ,” he hissed, trying not to disturb the Princess.

 

He knew that he should not be alone with her. He also knew that she should not be here alone at all, and he looked around for her sworn shield - a large and strapping youth with a deep laugh. More importantly though, she was at prayer, and as odd as it was to find a Southern Princess praying to the Northern Gods, he would not interrupt her.

 

His wolf did not turn, but the Princess did, and he saw then that she had been crying.

 

“F-forgive me,” she said, standing up and stumbling back against Grey Wind. “My Lord I…do you wish to pray?”

 

“There is nothing to forgive, Princess,” he said honestly, “It is I…and Grey Wind more like… who should beg your forgiveness.”

 

She waved him off as though it didn’t much matter, but she didn’t quite look him in the eye either, focusing instead on Grey Wind’s fur as she placed slow gentle strokes to it.

 

 _So unlike her brothers_ , Robb thought not for the first time. Tommen was terrified of the wolves and wouldn’t go near any of them, even Lady who was by far the sweetest. Joffrey on the other hand had looked at Grey Wind’s coat like it might look nice as trim on a cloak.

 

It was this difference that gave him the confidence - or the foolishness - to ask her, “Were you praying, Princess?”

 

“I like your Northern Gods,” she told him, “They do not demand nor judge, they are repositories of wishes and nothing more.”

 

“And what do you wish for?,” he asked her, before he could stop himself. He reasoned that he was only trying to make her forget her tears, that she was a guest in his home and it was his duty to be a kind and entertaining host.

 

“You are not a repository Robb Stark,” she said with a small smile, “And while you cannot demand from me, you can judge.”

 

“But I wouldn’t,” he said quickly, too quickly.

 

Her bright green eyes flashed up to his and scanned him, inspecting him for traces of duplicity. He tried his best to appear trustworthy, before realising that is exactly what someone not worthy of her trust would do.

 

“Do you pray?,” she asked, turning to her side and walking leisurely back to the tree to retrieve her gloves. She was impossibly slender from this vantage point, even under her layers of velvet and fur, and undeniably regal.

 

“Daily,” he told her truthfully.

 

“And what do you pray for, Robb Stark?,” she asked.

 

_I pray that father will put an end to this marriage with the throne. I pray that this summer never ends. I pray that they will all go back where they came from - all apart from you. When I banish them I never see your face._

 

“Impossible things,” he said instead.

 

“And have these Gods of yours answered these prayers?,” she asked. She was not teasing him, she was searching for salvation, divine intervention, of that he was sure. “Even once?”

 

He looked at her, wondering what exactly she would need to be saved from. She was a Princess, the wealthiest heiress in the country, and a true beauty. _How many little girls pray to the seven or the drowned god or the old gods to be just like you?_

 

“Once,” he said slowly, “I asked the Gods to intervene once. We were meant to go to one of the Manderly’s nameday feasts and I did not want to go. Mother had said that Jon would have to stay home, that he would not be able to attend with the rest of us. I prayed and prayed to the Gods that they would stop us from going, that they would change my parents’ minds. Two days later, Arya, only two at the time, came down with the worst fever this castle has ever seen. My mother didn’t leave her bedside for days, my father was beside himself with grief and worry. Sansa clung to me - wouldn’t let me out of her sight - and Jon didn’t speak to anyone, not a word. I realised then that I had to be careful with my prayers,” he said, choking back the memories, his guilt, “I realised then, that no matter how _tragic_ something can seem, it can always be worse. The Gods do not lack imagination.”

 

“Something all Gods have in common, I think,” she said with a sigh. Then shook her head, as though remembering who she spoke to, “Forgive me, Ser Robb, I should not burden you.”

 

“It is no burden, Princess, just as I am no knight,” he said with a small smile.

 

It was something he had to remind her of many times while she’d been in Winterfell. Knighting was not common in the North, and she could not seem to understand how the sons of the Warden of the North could be addressed simply by their names.

 

“Shall I knight you now?,” she asked, an impish grin on her face. In the back of his mind he realised that his plan to distract her had worked, but as he was in no hurry to stop talking to her, he persisted on.

 

“Can you knight people?,” he asked incredulously. From all his knowledge it was a King and Lord’s privilege.

 

“I’m a Princess,” she said imperiously, now bringing a grin to his face, “I can do as I - I could Knight you.”

 

“I meant no offence, Princess,” he assured her, “but I would rather be your repository than a knight.”

 

She looked at him as though she didn’t quite believe him, or maybe as though she wasn’t entirely sure it was a fair trade, but she scratched the bridge of Grey Wind’s snout, shaking out her curls as though ridding herself of something and asked, evading his suggestion, “Will you escort me back to the castle... Robb?”

 

He knew there would be opinions when he returned back to the castle with the princess at his side, unchaperoned, but he would rather risk a lashing than have her make her way back on her own as the sky grew dark. And she had asked him to, and he found that he did not have it in him to deny her.

 

“Of course, Princess,” he said and offered her his arm.

 

This was not the first time she has placed her small hand on his arm. He had escorted her, the first night there had been a feast they’d entered just like this. It felt different though now, here in the cold where he could feel the subtle warmth of her, where there were not curious onlookers, where her father did not shout jovially at them while her mother looked on disapprovingly.

 

Grey Wind took to her other side and Robb’s horse ambled along behind them loyally.

 

She smiled at Robb, “I have amassed quite the retinue.”

 

He grinned down at her. She had a delightful smile that felt like a privilege to earn.

 

“Quite smaller than you deserve,” he answered, causing another smile and a slight flush to appear on her cheeks. They walked in silence for a few moments before he started awkwardly, “Do you enjoy the North?”

 

“A beautiful country,” she said automatically, as though reading from a script. She looked up at him and grimaced and continued, in a different voice, “I like the snows and the honesty and the warmth.”

 

“The _warmth_?,” he asked incredulously. He had never been further south than Moat Cailin so he did not have much to compare it to, but he found it hard to believe that a princess from the south could find it so.

 

“Not of the air,” she said, shaking her head. She stopped then, worrying her lip as though trying to find the perfect way of describing it, “It is just a feeling… I suppose I sound ridiculous.”

 

“You don’t!,” he said quickly, “You couldn’t. I suppose there is a warmth…amongst my family and our people…is that what you mean?”

 

She nodded, “It is not so in the South. The sun is strong and relationships are _weak_ , but of course…you didn’t hear that from me.”

 

“I am but a repository, Princess, it matters not what I hear,” he said and to his immense surprise he _winked_ at her.

 

He was hoping to make her smile, maybe even laugh. She did not laugh much, he realised now, but he had heard it on a few occasions and it demanded smiles from all those heard it. She did not laugh, nor even smile, now though, instead she looked up at him with worry in her eyes before turning back ahead.

 

“I am to be married,” she said matter-of-factly.

 

_Why is this king so determined to make wives out of children? Should it not be the other way around?_

 

He knew the Princess was not a child. She was sixteen to his eighteen years, just like his sister Sansa, but while he may be a bachelor for many years to come, these flowers of the country would be wed before they had shed the girlhood from their skin.

 

“To who?,” he asked. He knew that was not the most important question, but even still, he needed to know. Would she marry someone worthy of her? _Is there anyone who could be worth of her?_

 

“I don’t know yet,” she said shaking her head. “There are many thoughts… but… I am not sure I wish to be married at all.”

 

He was surprised by the amount of relief he felt that a candidate had not been chosen, but it was undeniable. He felt it running through his veins, screaming with vitality.

 

“Never?,” he asked with a gulp, his mouth suddenly dry. _Why does it feel like something has been taken from me?_

 

She looked at him warily and shook her head, “I don’t know. Maybe…but… I would like to be a mother. Someday, maybe.”

 

 _Someday, maybe_ he thought as images of a little boy with russet curls and green eyes trotting through the courtyard on a pony whirled rebelliously through his mind.

 

“You would be a good mother,” he said softly, before he can think better of it. Because he has already crossed every line there is he says, “Kind and gentle and brave.”

 

“Is that what I am?,” she asked, stopping and turning towards him. “Truly?”

 

“That is what I see,” he answers honestly, thinking of the tender way she spoke to his little brothers, and the way she had stood up to Joffrey only the evening before when he’d been tormenting Tommen. “Any child would be lucky to have you, as would any man for that matter.”

 

“And you, Robb Stark?,” she asked. He gulped, wondering if he should say _Yes, yes I’d be lucky to have you_. She saved him from his own stupidity when she says, “Are you to be married?”

 

“Oh eventually,” he says dismissively, “They’ll find some unfortunate girl,” he says with a deprecating grin.

 

“Unfortunate? Do you intend on mistreating your wife?,” she asks.

 

“No! No of course not…,” he says, “I would never… no. When I meet the girl who is to be my wife she will never have a harsh word or action from me, I am not always agreeable, but I could never be _cruel_.”

 

 _Can Sansa be promised the same?_ He thought of the way the Prince had fooled his sweet little sister. Robb had watched him court her, making his innocent sister blush. She had told him only a few days ago about his _green eyes_ , she’d said it with a sigh. Robb had looked into those eyes though, and there was only cruelty behind them. So different than the ones looking up at him now, despite their identical color.

 

“And if your wife was kind, could you find it in yourself to be kind?,” she asked, SDCXbefore tilting her head back to survey the snow falling gently all around them.

 

“Stick out your tongue,” he suggested. She laughed, and it brought a smile to his face like it always did. She looked at him like he was crazy though, so he said, “Trust me, Princess, please.”

 

She gave him one last look and then tilted her head back. Ever so tentatively she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue and giggled as the first flakes landed.

 

“You do it too,” she demanded and he complied, tilting his head back and catching some flakes. They both laughed, the sound taking on a stilted quality because of their tongues being out, which only made them laugh harder until they were clutching their bellies. “If anyone were to see us they’d say we’d gone mad,” she said looking at him as they rose up. Her eyes were bright with mirth and her cheeks were rosy and her lips were wet from the snow and he wasn’t entirely sure that he _hadn’t_ gone mad when he stepped closer to her.

 

“I could find it into myself to be kind,” he nodded, answering her earlier question “With the right wife, I think I could find it in myself to be anything for her,” she looked up at him with a quiet sort of hopefulness, giving him the courage to go on and ask, “Do you think… _is it possible…_ if the right suitor came forward…,” he was doing this all wrong. Not only was it against the rules but he couldn’t even manage to do it correctly, couldn’t get the words out.

 

“Why do you think I was praying?,” she asked, “I am not like you. I do not pray for impossible things.”

 

 _Impossible things,_ he thought as he looked at the way Grey Wind, the defiant beast of the North leaned against this Southern Princess, _Impossible things_ , he thought of the way his little sister Sansa looked as he had lead her in a dance, happy and innocent and _safe_.

 

“I should get you back,” he said, offering her his arm once more. Rather than have her place her hand upon it, he took her small gloved hand in his and pulled it through the crook of his elbow.

 

They walked back in relative silence and found the castle in the quiet hour before supper, so neither received a tongue lashing for being in one another’s company unsupervised. He took his leave from her when she saw Tommen coming through the hall and went straight upstairs.

 

“Son?,” his father asked as he entered his parents solar unannounced.

 

“Father,” he started, “I’ve just come from the Godswood. I think the Gods have seen fit to provide a solution to our problems, and those of the realm.”

 

***

 

Two days later Winterfell Castle was the warmest place in the North. There was a grand feast including the boor and deer that had been killed on the hunt, along with music and dancing, and ale.

 

A marriage between the North and the Crown was announced, just as many in attendance had been expected.

 

However, while many had suspected that the eldest Stark girl would be wed to the Baratheon Prince, it was instead announced that the Princess Myrcella would wed the Stark heir. The young couple, it was said, would reside in Winterfell so that the bridegroom could continue to learn his duties.

 

While many were surprised by this turn of events, and some even disappointed - the Princess and the young lord were two of the most eligible members of their generation after all - none could deny that the pair were well suited when the Young Wolf lead the little Lion in a dance.

 

***

 

Myrcella had always had a fondness for dancing, having an interest in music and taking delight in the repartee that could be created amongst the steps, but she had never truly loved it until she danced in Robb Stark’s arms.

 

 _It is unconventional_ , so everyone said, that it was Robb who had come to her and asked her to be his wife. Normally these things were decided by the fathers, and while both had approved, one of the conditions was that she had the right to refuse. The other two, of course, were that they would reside in Winterfell, and that Sansa Stark would never marry Prince Joffrey.

 

_“If I am in anyway a disappointment to you,” he said, “Then I will never speak of it again,” he was on one knee before her, and he took her hand in his large ones and said, “But if I am not, if you can find it in yourself to accept the mere son of a lord, no knight,” he grinned, but then looked more solemn, “no prince, then I swear to you that I will endeavour every day to be worthy of you.”_

 

_“And do you,” she asked, though she already knew the answer, “Think that if I could be kind to you, that I am the sort of wife whom you could be kind to in return?”_

 

_“I know it,” he vowed, pressing a kiss to her palm. It was such an intimate gesture and she ached to feel it again. “And I will always try to make the North a place of warmth for you.”_

 

_She knelt before him, which was yet again unconventional. She was a princess, they were unmarried, but she was beginning to see that convention was not the sort of thing she cared very much for. Convention after all, lead to her parent’s marriage, convention would one day make her vicious brother King._

 

_“You are not a disappointment,” she said, shaking her head. He did a little laugh but there were tears in his eyes and they beckoned her own. He looked down at her lips and ever so slowly placed a kiss upon them. It was soft and sweet and felt like a promise._

 

They followed the steps of the dance as it lead them away from one another and back again. He twirled her and lifted her above his head, and she did not think she was imagining the gasp from those in attendance when they saw it. 

 

“And are you well, Princess?,” he asked her as he set her down gently.

 

“Very well,” she answered. She still did not know quite what to call him, his name still feeling strange on her lips. Though she supposed if they were to be married, “You ought to start calling me Myrcella, don’t you think?”

 

“I suppose so… Myrcella,” he said, as though teasing it on his tongue. She liked the way her name sounded on his tongue and she smiled at him reassuringly, delighting in his answering one.

 

“Robb,” she tested and let out a giggle when he showed his approval.

 

“That laugh,” he said with a grin, “I should like to hear it more.”

 

She merely smiled, letting him twirl her and stalk forward. She had no doubt that she would be laughing more, now that she was staying in the North. Her family was leaving after the wedding, which was happening in only two weeks.

 

They danced and danced, they danced until she felt her feet might fall off, though had you asked her earlier she would have said that her feet had never touched the ground. He lead her back to the high table and poured her a glass of wine.

 

She took a grateful sip and pressed the cool metal to her cheek. He grinned at her and took a sip of his own before asking, “Warm?”

 

She nodded at him and he stood. He did not look to his father, nor hers. Betrothal had made him into a rebel, it seemed. He held his hand out to her and she placed hers in it, for she too, could be a rebel in the right circumstances.

 

He lead her out of the noisy hall, into the open courtyard. Snow fell, as it always seemed to here, and they looked around at the stillness.

 

“I fear you will spoil me,” she said. She did not say it in jest nor in flirtation, but in truth. Every moment they were together he seemed to pursue her comfort.

 

“And is that so bad?,” he asked her, stepping closer. Her back was to one of the large stone columns and he looked so very big and grand standing before her. “For a man to spoil his wife?”

 

“It may turn me rotten,” she warned with a small smile, picking up his large hand and tracing the palm of it with her finger. He sucked in a breath and she turned her face up to his, looking into his kind blue eyes. They had turned dark as he drank her in and when she shivered it was not from the cold.

 

“I will take that risk, Princess,” he said and then to her surprise and her delight he pressed a kiss to her lips. _Unconventional_ , she thought and she smiled against his lips, allowing him to take her into his arms.

 

He broke the kiss, but he didn’t let her out of his arms, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

 

Before she could stop herself she whispered, “I like these Gods of yours.”

 

If he were any other boy she might be afraid that he would laugh, or judge, but he was her repository, he had told her so himself, and she had seen a marriage without any honesty in it and she would not have hers in its image.

 

This was not any boy, and he took her head in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “ _My lovely, impossible thing.”_


	14. It was a dare, and other convenient excuses

_I’m going to kill Shireen._

 

It certainly wasn’t the first time in her life that she’d ever thought it. There was that time when Shireen had dared her to kiss Trystane Martell at Willem Bracken’s thirteenth birthday party, knowing very well that she wasn’t one to pass on a dare. There was another time when she’d looked at her phone one morning to find _seventeen_ texts from Harry Hardyng after Shireen had given him her phone number.

 

But this time, this time she was serious.

 

It did not allude Myrcella Baratheon, Ella to her friends, that most of Shireen’s bad behavior came from trying to make Ella exhibit her own _bad behavior_ , but that just wasn’t her way. She was the girl who saw a hot guy walking down the street with his dog and asked if she could pet the dog because she _actually_ wanted to pet the dog.

 

It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested per se, but attraction had always seemed rather hypothetical to her. She read all of the regency novels about heaving corsets and impossible loves and it _sounded_ nice and all, except the whole wanting to die kind of thing, and the corsets too, those didn’t sound like fun, but she had just never felt it for herself. Not when Trystane’s rigid lips met hers. Not when Harry took her to the homecoming dance. Never.

 

So that is how Myrcella Baratheon, the golden girl or the ice princess depending on who you asked, had made it through her first twenty two years of life without ever, you know, _behaving badly._

 

And that is why, she supposed, her troublemaker, but all together loving, cousin had convinced her to come to the crowded bar _The Wall_ in a dress she never would have chosen, completed with a crown and a sash.

 

What did the sash say, you might ask? Well that is a key part of the story.

 

She really had to learn how to just say no to dares.

 

***

 

_I’m going to kill Theon._

 

It certainly wasn’t the first time in his life that he’d ever thought that. You didn’t go twenty five years with Theon Greyjoy being your best friend (well technically twenty two but still) without thinking it once or twice.

 

This time he was serious.

 

He was at their favorite bar _The Wall_ , or rather what had used to be their favorite bar before it was ruined. It had been ruined by a bartender.

 

It wasn’t that the bartender in question was so _bad_ at making drinks or anything, and given that Robb was more likely to order a whiskey neat or a beer he didn’t need a _mixologist_ or whatever they were calling themselves these days. It was that it seemed to be a universal fact that the bartender, Daario, was hot.

 

Word had gotten out after one of Winterfell University’s sororities had added _The Wall_ to one of their bar crawls on a whim. After that, the drinks got a little more expensive, the music got a little poppier, and the crowd? Well let’s just say The Wall had never seen so many crop tops.

 

Now, if you’re wondering exactly why a red-blooded, newly single, twenty five year old man would be complaining about hot college girls dressed inappropriately for a Northern Summer let alone Winter then you may have been talking to Robb’s former best friend turned sworn enemy, Theon Greyjoy.

 

In all honesty though, Robb Stark had only been single for a couple of months, and though he knew he and Jeyne had their problems he still wasn’t necessarily, completely over it.

 

Theon Greyjoy who seemed intent on rewriting the _Douchebag’s Guide to Dating_ had oft espoused the theory that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. _“Preferably a younger, hotter someone else_ ,” he’d added.

 

Which was why Robb was now drinking a six dollar beer that had cost ten dollars as he sat in the one corner booth that hadn’t been reupholstered, where he could try to pretend that it was still just an average night as his favorite bar.

 

That was of course until Theon Greyjoy, enemy of the state, plopped down next to him and said, “You know that younger, hotter girl I was talking about?”

 

“I wasn’t aware that she actually existed I thought she was more a hypothetical,” Robb grumbled.

 

“Oh she’s real, very real. Blonde-haired-green-eyed-punch-you-in-the-dick-beautiful too,” he said with a grin. This at least, made Robb glance at him. Theon Greyjoy didn’t call girls _beautiful_ , preferring hot, sexy, smoking.

 

In spite of himself, he was interested. Well not interested, but intrigued. He had a thing for green eyes and couldn’t ignore the picture in his head of running his hand through golden silky hair. The position of where that hair was would go unmentioned. Robb was a gentleman. Most of the time. Slightly less so after being single for a couple of months.

 

“Alright, where is this girl then?,” Robb asked, scanning the crowded bar for someone fitting Theon’s elegant description.

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Theon said a malicious grin on his face as they stood, “I haven’t told you the best part.”

 

“What? She’s married?,” Robb asked him. It was exactly the sort of thing Theon would do. Dangle the perfect carrot in front of your face, only to eat it or throw it to the ground when you got close enough.

 

“Not exactly,” Theon said, throwing his arm around Robb’s shoulders and guiding him through the bar.

 

Robb stopped short when he saw a crowd of guys amassed in a rather dignified line. He hardly spared them a glance though, looking only at who they were standing in front of.

 

 _Well punch me in the dick_.

 

Theon was right, for once, because there she was in all her blonde-haired-green-eyed-bow-lipped-long-legged-tiny-waisted-perfection.

 

“Well, not _yet_ anyway,” Theon said, and then he saw it.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d missed it in the first place, given how it’s satiny-white stuck out so starkly against her black dress. He moved a little closer to see what the writing on it said and his blood turned cold.

 

_Bride-To-Be._

 

He really was going to kill Theon one of these days.

 

***

 

“Well that was really something, Grinn is it?,” Shireen said from her side and Ella fought the urge to bury her head in her cousin’s neck and giggle.

 

“Grenn,” Grenn corrected, and gave her such a hopeful smile that she couldn’t help but smile back at him, even as she blushed.

 

“Yes well, that really was _…,_ ” Shireen trailed off, trying to come up with the right words for watching Grenn open ten beers in a row using only his eyes, but she came up short and finally said, “But I’m afraid to say I think my darling cousin will still be marrying her beloved next Sunday. We _do_ thank you for your efforts though,” she finished and Grenn went to amble off, but before he could she said, “Oh and Grenn?”

 

The boy turned back hopefully only to have his smile falter when Shireen held a beer up to him, “One last time? I’m awfully thirsty…”

 

Grenn acquiesced and then walked away, and Ella waved to him sadly as he went. Even if he left some refinement to be desired, he was sweet, and he’d made the pair laugh more than any of the other guys that had lined up for Shireen’s little contest.

 

About a half hour after they’d arrived, and enough guys had come to hit on them, Shireen had decided that a little order to the evening was required so had asked them to make a formal line. The contest, of course, was to convince Ella not to get married. The fact that Ella was not getting married was of little consequence to Shireen. _We’ll know it when we see it_ , she’d said knowingly.

 

Ella had drank a couple of gin and tonics, made by that shamefully attractive bartender, in her effort not to have to actually speak to any of the guys. It wasn’t that any of them were so rude, the whole thing was just so silly and the whole reason Shireen was doing this was because she was shy and this exhibition was not exactly helping that.

 

One guy had tried to give her a lap dance, another had taken a shot of whiskey and blew out fire, which had gotten him promptly kicked out by the gigantic bouncer Tormund, one had offered to cut off his ponytail which she took him up on even though she knew he wasn’t the one because he really did look so much better without it.

 

The whole thing was ridiculous, more than. She knew she wasn’t ugly but she also knew that most of this wasn’t really for her benefit. Nothing made a guy want anything more than turning it into a competition and Ella Baratheon was no man’s prize.

 

“Scuse me losers,” a cocky guy said as he swaggered in, cutting the guys in line. If Ella had been interested, she probably would have been upset by the way the guy in question couldn’t take his eyes off Shireen in her black jeans and white crop top. “May I ask your name, beautiful?,” he said though, turning to her.

 

“Uh, My-Ella,” she said because that was when she saw his companion. His russet-haired-blue-eyed-dreamboat of a companion.

 

 _Oh_.

 

“Myella?,” the cocky one asked.

 

“It’s Myrcella,” Shireen supplied for her, “Ella for short. And you’re breaking about ten rules right now.”

 

“Darlin’ you’re in a dive bar holding a contest to get your engaged friend _unengaged_. You’re not exactly acting above board yourself,” he said and Ella couldn’t help but grin.

 

It was rare that anyone had the guile to put Shireen in her place, and she couldn’t help but notice the way her cousin’s pouty lips parted in an _o_ as she looked at the man in front of her.

 

“She’s not my friend,” Shireen said, which Ella felt was rather unnecessary, but then she wrapped her arm around Ella’s shoulder and leaned into her, “She’s my cousin.”

 

_Not going to give away that upper hand without a fight are you, Shy?_

 

“Not a kissing cousin, by any chance?,” the guy asked and his companion rolled his eyes as though he’d seen this all before.

 

“Not on your life, -,” Shireen started and let it dangle.

 

“Theon, Greyjoy,” he said, as though she may have heard of him. “And you are?”

 

“Shireen Baratheon,” Shireen said and held her hand out to him. The fact that she still had her arm around Ella’s shoulders made it very clear when she jumped when their hands connected, but Shireen recovered quickly, inclining her head towards Theon’s friend, “Whose the mute?”

 

“Oh this guy here? He’s the one you’ve been looking for,” Theon said, pulling his friend forward.

 

Ella looked at him curiously. He was admittedly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, with a square jaw she oddly wanted to lick and blue eyes so intense they unnerved her and she was pretty sure that if she had been wearing a corset it would be heaving.

 

“Ignore him,” her very own Mr. Darcy said, “I’m um…Robb…Stark. And, congratulations, or is it best wishes? Sansa would know… but uh whatever, he’s a lucky guy.”

 

She almost asked _“who is?_ ” and then she remembered the stupid sash and the stupid contest and she really was going to kill Shireen.

 

“We’ll toast to him, what do you say?,” Theon asked, throwing his arm around Robb and signalled to the bartender for another round without waiting for their acquiescence. When they all had their drinks he said, “To the lucky bastard - wherever you are - we apologise in advance.”

 

***

 

To put it simply, the Baratheon girls were trouble.

 

They had all settled back into the booth Robb had only recently vacated and Ella had taught them a drinking game that her uncle had taught her which included a match,a full drink, and the towns of the Riverlands. Theon was not very good at it, so Ella had given him her crown saying to him sweetly _no one will notice that your eyebrow is missing if you wear this._

 

They were a dizzying combination. Beauties, the pair of them, but like night and day. Shireen was all spirited assuredness, Ella all calm shyness.

 

She would hardly meet his gaze though he had felt her eyes on him more than once, and he would force himself to look away from her every so often only to have her pull his gaze back with a giggle or by clapping a hand over Shireen’s mouth when she offered to tell a story about a night they’d had in the Summer Isles when they were sixteen.

 

“So gentlemen,” Shireen said in a business-like manner, “I think it’s time you make your case.”

 

“Shy don’t embarrass me,” Ella half pleaded half reprimanded.

 

“What’s there to be embarrassed about, beautiful? It’s us laying our hearts out on the line…,” Theon pointed out.

 

Ella looked at him and narrowed her eyes, straightened her back and nodded her head slightly, regally, “Well go on then.”

 

Robb grinned and took another sip of his beer. Perhaps there was something of her cousin in her after all.

 

“The way _I_ see it,” Theon started.

 

“No,” Shireen interrupted, and pointed her beer directly at him, “I want to hear what you have to say.”

 

Robb felt his ears redden. He had been content to sit back and watch Theon plead his case, have another drink, maybe convince Ella to dance with him _Once, before I lose my chance_ he’d say. It was the kind of cheesy line that would be in one of the romantic comedies Sansa always dragged him to. The kind of line that could almost fool him into thinking he had a chance of stopping the inevitable.

 

“I’m not about to try to steal another man’s wife,” he said, like a coward.

 

“Good thing she’s not married then,” Shireen said, and gave him a small smile, “Yet.”

 

“Shy leave him alone,” Ella said and turned to him, “Don’t let her bully you, you’re an honorable man, Robb Stark.”

 

“I wish I weren’t,” he told her honestly. Shireen smiled, and Theon sat up straighter as though things had just gotten interesting, but he looked only at Ella, whose breath had seemed to catch. “A less honorable man would convince you that you were too young to be a wife, would show you all the things you’d miss out on being a bride too young.”

 

“What,” she started, her green eyes wide, “What kinds of things?”

 

_Oh sweetheart I’d show you all kinds of things._

 

There was something in her that called to him, and while he couldn’t explain it, he was helpless against it. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though by god if she wasn’t the only girl he’d ever seen who fit the description of _punch-you-in-the-dick-beautiful_ , there was a kindness to her that seemed to seep out of her very pores, and her shyness was its own form of seduction. He was dying to see what lingered underneath it.

 

“Things that’d knock that halo right off you,” he told her.

 

Maybe he was honorable, maybe he wasn’t, but what was honor compared to a girl looking at you like _that_?

 

***

 

 _Things that’d knock that halo right off you_.

 

It wasn’t just what he said, it was how he said it. He had a deep Northern accent that sent shivers down her spine, and he said it with a sort of gruffness that shamefully made her think about him with his head between her thighs.

 

He was looking at her with those blue eyes of his, not like he was sorry, but like he couldn’t believe he’d really said it. Like he had been thinking it since he first met her and couldn’t now fathom that the words had tumbled from his lips.

 

He wasn’t as bold as Theon, whose every gesture was laced with confidence, he was the far quieter of the two. They were a bit like her and Shireen actually, and she felt a surge of pride that she’d made him bolder.

 

 _Perhaps I too can be bold_.

 

She stood up out of the booth and started walking towards the crowd of people on the dance floor.

 

“Where are you going?,” Robb asked.

 

She turned around with a small smile on her face and said, “You’ve still got to plead your case, Robb Stark. Unless, of course, you _want_ me to get married next Sunday.”

 

He was out of his chair in a moment, his eyes never leaving hers as he crossed to her. She was terrified but felt more alive than she’d ever felt when he stood before her.

 

He looked down at her. He was so large compared to her and he was standing so close that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

 

“You’re playing with me, Ella Baratheon,” he said with a sigh, “But I’m not entirely sure that even you know the rules of the game.”

 

He wasn’t wrong, she had no idea what she was doing. She had never felt so entirely out of control in her whole life, she had lost it to his eyes and his lips and the way he said her name.

 

“Then teach me a new one,” she said stupidly. He grinned at her though, giving her confidence, so she went on, “Plead your case Robb Stark.”

 

He took her by the hand and she felt a thousand electric currents alight in her palm. He looked down at where their hands met and she thought that maybe he felt it too. He pulled her into the mass of bodies and spun her, before pulling her close.

 

“How old are you, anyhow?,” he asked in her ear, “Too young, surely, to be a bride.”

 

“I’m twenty-two,” she said and he chuckled in her ear, “What’s wrong with being twenty-two?”

 

“Nothing wrong with it so much,” he said, one of his hands wrapping around her back and settling on her hip bone. It felt enormous on her body and she found that she wanted to feel that hand everywhere. “I just don’t think at twenty-two you know yourself enough to know what you want.”

 

She drew her head back so that she could look up at him.

 

“Do you accuse me of being blind, Robb Stark?,” she asked him indignantly.

 

“Blind?,” he asked and shook his head, “No.”

 

“Simply stupid then,” she amended, angry that he would discredit what she was feeling, that he would question her love for her fiancé. Not that she was engaged, of course, but he didn’t know that. “I’d have to be not to see the love of my life standing right in front of me.”

 

She was only speaking hypothetically, of course. It had nothing to do with him. They’d only just met, she was engaged as far as he knew. Even still the rims of his eyes were tinged in red and he let out an exulting breath.

 

“But getting married now,” he told her solemnly, “Would be like closing your eyes forever.”

 

He said it like it was a personal affront to him. As though she was stealing something from him.

 

“And you don’t want that?,” she asked softly, searching his blue gaze.

 

He reached a hand up and stroked the line of cheekbone and said, “If I had my way, these eyes’d stay wide open, and go on looking at me just like that.”

 

He was leaning closer to her and she was leaning closer to him. Any minute their lips would touch and she’d know for sure if this really was just a game. Her eyes fell to his lips and her tongue licked her bottom one in anticipation, having felt it go dry.

 

His hand moved on her hip and brushed up against the satin of her sash. He looked down at it and backed away as though he’d been scalded.

 

“Robb -,” she started, going to close the distance.

 

She couldn’t entirely explain it but she felt like she had lost something.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, as though trying to set his brain straight once again, “I shouldn’t have…Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

 

“No I…I’m not,” she started but he’d already started walking away.

 

_How do I tell him? He’ll hate me. He’ll accuse me of toying with him of… and he’d be right._

 

“Not thirsty?,” he called over his shoulder.

 

He wouldn’t even look at her, maybe he hated her already.

 

“SHE’S NOT ENGAGED, YOU IDIOT,” Shireen called from the booth.

 

“What?,” Robb asked.

 

“IT WAS ALL A DARE,” Theon shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth as though he wasn’t fifteen mere feet away.

 

Robb whipped around and there was fire in his eyes. She flinched, she’d never seen someone look so angry - he was positively wolfish.

 

“Is that true?,” he asked in a measured tone.

 

“Yes,” she nodded. _The engagement was fake, but this was real_. She really was going to kill Shireen. Even still though she had to fight. “But-“

 

He never gave her a chance to plead her case though.

 

***

 

 _I’m going to kill Theon_.

 

Robb rubbed his eyes as his phone blared the familiar ringtone.

 

“What,” he grumbled.

 

“Dude, tonight, drinks,” Theon’s cocky voice said.

 

“No,” Robb said, “Absolutely not. I still haven’t forgiven you for last night.”

 

“How was _I_ supposed to know?,” Theon asked, “It’s not like _I’m_ the one who made up a fake engagement - what? _ow, ow that hurts!_ ”

 

“Is there a cat dying somewhere?,” a soft voice asked.

 

He turned to his right and saw one jade eye looking up at him. The other was hidden behind his pillow, and though he couldn’t see her lips he could tell she was smiling.

 

“It’s Theon,” he explained, smiling down at her like a fool, “He wants to get drinks tonight.”

 

A small hand surfaced as she reached for the phone. He handed it to her willingly and propped himself up on his side so that he could look at the goddess below him.

 

“Robb can’t go out with you tonight, Theon,” she said as she brought the phone to her ear, “No, I can’t go either. Because,” she said and looked up at him in a way that made his heart stop and his dick rise, “We’re busy… Don’t be a pervert… Because Shireen’s better at it than you, put her on.”

 

He chuckled and she put the phone on speakerphone, “So El, does that halo look good on Robb’s bedroom floor?”

 

“Shy!,” Ella protested. “Robb can hear you.”

 

“Then answer the question, Robbert,” Shireen practically cooed.

 

Ella looked up at him and bit her lip and he took the phone from her, “Mind your own business, Shireen, I _dare_ you.”

 

With that he hung up on their best friends and tossed his phone. He heard it crash somewhere but it didn’t much matter with Ella in his bed, looking gorgeous and rumpled and reaching a tentative hand up to stroke his cheek.

 

“How…are you?,” he asked stupidly.

 

“Very well, thank you,” she said formally with a small smile, “How are you?”

 

“Oh very good,” he confirmed, his hand gripping her slender waist through his sheets. “Not up for The Wall again?”

 

“I’m not sure I can ever go back,” she said with a small grin, her fingers trailing his bicep lightly.

 

“Good,” he said, leaning down and kissing her, “Because I never intend to let you out of this bed again.”

 

“Well except for the wedding,” she teased.

 

“Fine, we’ll leave for that, but then straight back to bed,” he teased back. Kind of teased anyway, he had no plans next Sunday.

 

“ _Robb_ ,” she reprimanded with a small smile, “Shouldn’t we go on a date before we get married?”

 

“Very well,” he sighed as though it was a great imposition. He stroked her smooth cheek and then let his hand trail down her neck, to her chest, so that he could lift the sheet off of her. “After all, you’re too young to marry anyway.”

 

“And there are so many things I’d miss out on…,” she prompted, and looked up at him with a blush on her cheeks, “Aren’t there?”

 

He grinned and let his fingers trail down her body as he leaned down to capture her lips again.

 

***

 

TWO YEARS LATER

 

_I’m going to kill Shireen._

 

It was her beloved cousin’s fault after all that she was here, the place she’d sworn up and down that she’d never go back to.

 

She looked at the CLOSED sign on the outside of _The Wall_ and took her phone out.

 

She dialled Shireen and got no answer, and she turned to walk back to her car, texting her to tell her to meet her at Smyth + Vine instead when she got a call from Robb.

 

“Hi handsome,” she said, her annoyance dissipating just at the sight of his name.

 

“Hi baby, are you with Shireen yet?,” he asked.

 

There was a strange echo to his voice and she covered her other ear, hoping to drown out whatever it was.

 

“Not yet, _The Wall_ is closed, just like I told her - didn’t we read that somewhere?,” she asked, trying to remember if she’d seen it in the paper.

 

“I’m not sure about that,” he said, “Are you _sure_ it’s closed? Like, locked up and everything?”

 

“Well I didn’t try to get in, the CLOSED sign on the door seemed pretty sure though,”she said with a roll of her eyes.

 

“I don’t know, maybe they are turning it into a speakeasy or something, you should at least _try_ …,” he said.

 

“Robb, what is going on?,” she asked, stopping in her tracks.

 

“Just try the door baby,” he urged, “Go on, I _dare_ you.”

 

She felt her heart beating wildly in her chest and she couldn’t find it in herself to walk back, so instead she ran. Her stomach dropped when she turned the doorknob and it gave way easily. She practically stumbled in.

 

The bar was definitely closed, the windows were boarded up and the chairs were all stacked on the tables. The shelves of liquor had been cleared out and even the jukebox in the back corner was gone.

 

But there, smack dab in the middle of the makeshift dance floor was Robb Stark, her boyfriend of two years nearly to the day. There were candles, hundreds of candles everywhere, and they cast him in an otherworldly glow.

 

“Robb?,” she asked, her hand still clutching her phone stupidly.

 

“Right here,” he said, and she felt her knees go weak, “I was standing right here when I kissed you for the first time. I was standing right here, when I learned that you hadn’t pledged yourself to another, right here when I told you that I always wanted your eyes, your beautiful, jade eyes, wide open, looking at me, exactly as you are now. So,” he said, and then he got down on one knee, “When I thought about how I should ask you to be mine forever,” he said proffering a small velvet box, “It seemed only right and fitting.”

 

“You want to marry me, Robbert Hoster Stark?,” she asked with a tearful smile.

 

“I’ve wanted to marry you since the first morning I woke up with you in my bed, Myrcella Penelope Baratheon, and I think I’ve shown remarkable restraint in waiting this long,” he said with a blurry smile of his own. “Marry me, baby, and put me out of my misery.”

 

She crossed the distance between them and wrenched his face up to hers just like he’d done to her two years ago. He had no sooner learned that she was not engaged than she was in his arms, being kissed so expertly that it knocked the wind from her.

 

He stood up, his arms wrapping around her back, as he kissed her back, tears running down both of their faces.

 

“Did she say yes?,” a voice grumbled.

 

She let out a yelp, not expecting anyone to be there, and Robb held her firmly as he laughed.

 

“You’re RUINING it!,” Shireen reprimanded.

 

“How long have you two been there?,” she asked.

 

“Since Robb got here,” Shireen said, “He wanted us all to toast.”

 

“Well technically a few minutes _before_ Robb got here,” Theon said, wrapping his arm around Shireen, “We had our own first to recreate here. In the bathroom. If you know what I mean.”

 

“I will literally kill you if you tell us what you mean,” Robb said and she giggled like an idiot. He turned back towards her, “But he did make a good point… what’s your answer?”

 

“Yes,” she said with a small smile. His answering one lit up his whole face and she couldn’t help but repeat, “Yes!”

 

He put the ring on her finger and then picked her up and swung her around. He still held her in the air but he pointed at Shireen.

 

“And don’t _you_ get any ideas about finding some guys to talk her out of it,” he said, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. He loved Shireen too much for there to be any bite in it.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, the picture of innocence.

 

Shireen and Theon ran forward and gathered them in a group hug.

 

“See aren’t you glad now that you never pass on a dare?,” Shireen asked.

 

She looked up at Robb. Her first, her last, her always and said with a teasing lilt, “I’m just sorry I didn’t go for the guy who could open the beer with his eyes, that would have come in handy right about now…”

 

Robb growled at her but stepped away and went behind the bar, coming back with bottles of champagne in hand.

 

“What did I tell you, El?,” Theon said.

 

“You were right,” she said with a grin, “He was the one I was waiting for.”

 

“And what else was I right about?,” Theon asked pointedly at Robb.

 

“Theon,” Robb warned.

 

“What? So she _isn’t_ punch you in the dick beautiful?,” Theon taunted.

 

“Punch you in the what?,” she asked Shireen in confusion as Robb went to chase Theon.

 

One of these days, it was possible that he really would kill him. 


	15. The sun has risen, and I am standing here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this earlier in the summer for @asoiafrarepairs and am just getting around to posting now.

“Ella, dear, I’ll be back on Tuesday,” Jon said, rising out of his chair slowly. She remembered how fast he used to move. Robb had always been stronger, but Jon had been quicker. He had been beautiful in motion. It was a cruelty of the gods, that he should be reduced to using a cane, taking nervous, unsteady steps.

 

“Very good, Tommy will be here for dinner with the children, and Kitty too,can Ned make it?,” she asked him.

 

Tuesday nights were family nights. Though in a family like theirs, every night was a family night. Her son and grandchildren lived just down the lane, and one or both of the little ones would wander over to Grandma’s a few times a week to do their homework under the willow tree. Ned, Jon’s eldest, lived close by too and always stopped in to fix something or other that needing fixing. If he left after a hot meal, so much the better. His wife Sally was sweet, but burned more than she made.

 

“I’ll have him call you, Jenny has a literature test the next day, so I’m sure she’ll want to come and speak to you first,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

 

It didn’t matter that Jenny and her older brother Robb weren’t her Grandchildren, they had been raised as such. She was their Great-Aunt after all, by marriage, and the familial lines had bled into one another long ago.

 

“She just likes to entertain me,” she said, “She’s a good girl.”

 

“Heaven on earth, as far as I’m concerned,” he said with that crinkled smile. Jenny looked just like Sansa had at her age, so while Jon was devoted to all his grandchildren, there was very little that Jenny could do or say that didn’t make her grandfather smile. Especially in the year since the cancer took Sansa away from them all.

 

“Thank you, Jon, for coming,” she said, taking his hand in hers.

 

He squeezed it, those grey eyes of his filled with sadness but still deep with the same love he’d always had in them when he looked at her.

 

“Can I choose tonight?,” he asked.

 

“Very well,” she said, gesturing to the large tin box resting on the desk in the sitting room.

 

He opened the box gingerly and sifted through, pulling out a small envelope, torn at the top, that still had dirt on it after all these years. He placed it in her hand, and automatically her finger traced over the various stamps, now threadbare.

 

“Until Tuesday,” he said, kissing her cheek.

 

“I’ll walk you out,” she said, taking the arm he offered her and following him out onto the big wrap around porch.

 

He settled her into her seat and walked carefully down the stairs to his car. It was dusk, they no longer cared for parties that lasted until the early hours, and the purplish tinge to the sky made the trees look all the more green and lush, the subtle sound of cicadas carrying over the land.

 

When she saw his car disappear down the drive she pulled the letter gingerly out of its envelope, placing that beside her and unfolding the well-worn paper.

 

_June 6, 1918_

 

_My darling Ella,_

 

_Happy birthday, my only love. Though there is a war waging on all around me, the warm June evening reminds me of Newport, of champagne and dancing - and you._

 

_I remember this night, two years ago. You were on the arm of that Tyrell in your light blue gown, laughing prettily behind your gloved hands, and I just thought “No”. That is the girl that I am going to marry and doggone anyone who tries to tell me differently._

 

_I remember asking you to dance. Willas, ever the gentleman, relinquished you willingly. How was he to know?_

 

_Do you remember what I said to you that evening? I’ll always remember what you said to me._

 

 

Ella held the letter to her heart and just like that, she was transported to a June evening like this one, so many years before. The dress had cost a fortune, but it had been worth it.

 

_“You’ve got to stop doing that,” she chided, averting his gaze._

 

_“Doing what?,” he asked and though she refused to look at him she could hear the smile in his tone._

 

_“Staring. People will talk,” she said through gritted teeth._

 

_“I don’t see what all the fuss is about a man looking at his wife,” he said smugly._

 

_At that, she couldn’t help looking at him, with fire blazing out of her eyes._

 

_“I have never, in my life, met someone as sure of themselves as you!,” she exclaimed._

 

_His thumb stroked her spine and despite the heat of the evening she felt goosebumps rise on her arms. The mirth was gone from his face and he looked at her intently, those ocean eyes drinking her in._

 

_“It’s not that I’m so sure of myself,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sure of us. I’m as sure of us as I am that the sun will rise tomorrow, that England is fighting Germany, that I am standing here right now. You are the girl for me, Myrcella Penelope Baratheon, and I’m sorry to say that I’m the man for you. You deserve better, that much is clear, but I’m all you’ve got.”_

 

_Her heart was singing at his words. How many nights had she dreamed of him saying such things? When had she first felt it? When she was six and he showed her how to catch lightning bugs? When she was twelve and he held his umbrella over her, no regard for his own clothes, the whole way back to Winterfell? When she was fifteen and felt the first prick of heartbreak when she saw Jeyne Westerling on his arm? Still, she had never been accused of being an easy conquest and she wouldn’t go willingly now._

 

_“Quite a statement when I’ve arrived on the arm of another,” she said._

 

_“Yes, Willas is a handsome man, from a good family, he’d be a good husband, a good supporter, but hear this, and hear this now. He will bore you to tears, and on the day when you realize you made a mistake, on the day when you realize you gave up a life of adventure and love and happiness -“_

 

_“You’ll what? Slam the door in my face?”_

 

_“I’d welcome you with open arms, and thank you for coming to me,” he said earnestly. “I tease you, I know, I always have. But I love you, you own me, you’ll always owned me, and whenever you realize that I am the man for you I’ll be waiting.”_

 

_“You’d wait?,” she asked, her lower lip trembling._

 

_“Be as sure of that as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow and that England is fighting Germany and that you are standing here right now. There is no measure of time that I wouldn’t wait for you to realize that I’m the one for you.”_

 

_“Don’t say that -,” she argued, shaking her head stubbornly. “Tell me its now. Not now or never, just now. Tell me its now and that we can’t delay another day. I don’t want your patience, save it for when we’re married - you’ll need it.”_

 

_He let out a surprised chuckle._

 

_“You’ll do it - you’ll marry me?,” he asked, dragging her off the dance-floor and gripping her arms. All of his assurance had abandoned him the moment she’d accepted and she loved him for that._

 

_“Is there a priest here? I’ll do it now, or tomorrow, I’ll do it in my pajamas, or in a rainstorm - just say now, just say our life has to start together now,” she said, taking his cheeks in her hands._

 

_He pulled her head towards him and kissed her forehead, letting out a woop! Then he tilted her head back so she could look him in the eyes._

 

_“Marry me, Myrcella Penelope Baratheon, say you’ll marry me now - say you’ll -“_

 

_“Yes.”_

 

A tear ran down her cheek and she could practically hear the music that had been playing that evening. She looked back at the letter and continued reading.

 

_We were married the following Sunday. How our mothers planned a big church wedding in a week, I’ll never know, but it only proves that everyone knew, just like we did. You were the girl for me, my beautiful wife, and I was the man for you._

 

_There’s a necklace that goes with this letter, but I’m keeping it safe with me. It’s in my breastpocket now, close to my heart - so close to you._

 

_There’s a war waging on over here, but when I think of you at home, underneath the willow trees with Grey Wind to keep you company I know that it’s all worth it. Protecting you - protecting the life we are going to have - anything would be worth that._

 

_So, my darling wife, my only ever love, I wish you the happiest of birthdays. I wish I could be there with you, but just know, that by your birthday next, you’ll be celebrating with me and with whatever little life is growing inside you._

 

_All my devotion,_

_Your Robb_

 

_p.s. the sun has risen, and England is at war with Germany, and I am sitting here and I am still the man for you_

 

Ella folded the letter and put it carefully back into its envelope. She sat for a moment longer before going back inside.

 

She lifted the lid of the large tin box and placed the letter carefully back in amongst the others. She looked inside, at the stacks and stacks of letters he had sent to her over the years, over their wonderful life full of love and adventure.

 

_The sun has risen, England and Germany are at peace, I am standing here, and you will always be the man for me. Now is the time for patience, my love, I will be with you soon._


	16. Nothing's Shining, Shining Like it Should

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title from Kingdom Fall

He wasn’t sleeping. He didn’t fall asleep easily anymore. He just lay awake, all night, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the laughter and conversation of the other students as they walked through the quad.

 

He heard his window opening and out of the corner of his eye saw a leg hook over the window sill, followed by a golden head popping in and bringing the rest of her body with it.

 

She was naked by the time she got to the bed, lifting up his covers and straddling him.

 

She leaned down to kiss him and her breath smelled like gin.

 

“You’re drunk,” he told her.

 

“You don’t care,” she said back.

 

He kissed her then because she was right. He didn’t care and though he’d always preferred scotch he didn’t mind the taste of Tanqueray on her tongue.

 

He was inside of her in a moment, letting out a deep guttural cry against her lips. She road him hard and fast, the way she always did at first and he sat up to hold onto her. To make her slow down.

 

This was the only time he felt alive anymore. He didn’t want it to be over too soon.

 

He brought her against him again and again and he felt her nails taking purchase in his shoulders. He gripped her butt harshly in return.

 

It was normal for them to walk away with scratches and bruises. They marked one another, making it impossible or at the very least undesirable to end up with another in their bed.

 

If there was one thing that she cared about these days it was her reputation and she knew, if nothing else, that he could keep a secret.

 

She let out a moan and looked down to where their bodies joined, as though even after all this time she couldn’t quite believe what was happening. In the hours she was gone he almost forgot too and his eyes followed hers watching himself disappear again and again inside of her.

 

She breaks his concentration with another kiss and they set about devouring one another.

 

She speeds up once again and he doesn’t stop her this time, instead he helps her, pulling her against him more harshly. _Thwap, thwap, thwap._ The familiar sound of their bodies meeting mixing with the light screech of the old springs of the dorm mattress.

 

He doesn’t think of how many other students must have fucked in this bed. He only thinks of her and the way she is gripping his hair and the clench of her wet cunt around him and the way her breath is quickening in his ear.

 

“That’s it,” he tells her. He doesn’t call her _sweet girl_ or anything else. He doesn’t tell her that she’s beautiful or how good she feels. He just urges her onwards. “That’s it. Just like that.”

 

She doesn’t say anything at all. She never does.

 

She moans in his ear though and it’s sweeter than any lullaby. He feels her come, he entire body shudders and he forces himself to let go. He doesn’t want to. He wants to hold on, but it wouldn’t be fair.

 

They don’t kiss when they are done. She gets off of him and goes into his bathroom and washes herself off.

 

When she comes back out she pulls on her dress and her light jacket and leaves her panties right there on the floor. She leaves them for him to throw away, but he never does.

 

“You don’t have to leave,” he tells her.

 

Even though he only has a twin bed it would be alright if she stayed.

 

“Yes, I do,” she says, like always.

 

“Do you want me to walk you?,” he asked her.

 

“Do I ever?,” she asked him.

 

She never did, but he always offered.

 

“Will you come back tomorrow?,” he asked.

 

“I’m not sure,” she said, “Do you have other plans?”

 

“No,” he said, “I just can’t sleep if I don’t know if you’re coming or not.”

 

“You could always lock me out,” she pointed out.

 

He didn’t say anything to that. There was nothing to say to that. He’d never lock her out and she’d never commit to coming so really, there was no point to speaking at all. Perhaps that was why they rarely did.

 

“It’s October 4th,” she said, then added, “Our anniversary.”

 

“Fuck you, Ella,” he spat at her.


	17. Love is Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For my baby @sansaclarkes who gifted me this lovely prompt on Tumblr. Also posted on there.
> 
> Blind Date AU with Jon and Sansa as the unaware idiots and Myrcella and Robb (mostly Myrcella) as the architects of their happiness.

Jon walked into _Last Hearth_ , one of those New-Westerosi restaurants obsessed with brussel sprouts and truffle oil, at three minutes to 8 o’clock on Friday night.

 

He wasn’t much for these kinds of restaurants, preferring to eat at home or at Winterfell, but of all of them, this was admittedly his favorite.

 

_“Okay just remember you like The Wight vintage 74 and the meatloaf,” Ella said to him as he pulled on the charcoal sweater she’d insisted he wear._

 

_“Ella I can order for myself!,” he growled, annoyed by how much more comfortable he felt in the sweater she’d suggested than the button down he’d intended to wear. “Just like I can find my own dates!”_

 

_“If you were better at finding your own dates we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?,” she asked with a skeptical raise of her brow. Her face softened, “And I know you are perfectly capable of deciding what to eat and drink and everything else… I just want you to be happy.”_

 

_“I know you do, Ella,” he said with a sigh._

 

_Ella was always well-intentioned. It was frustrating. Not as frustrating as her always being right though._

 

_“Now is this really necessary?,” he asked, holding up the flower she’d given him._

 

_“Yes,” she said firmly, “A winter rose. She’ll have one too.”_

 

Jon couldn’t quite believe that he’d agreed to a blind date. He had never been on one before, and quite honestly, they had always been his nightmare. He wasn’t really one for small talk and that was all a blind date could be.

 

Plus the uncertainty of it all. At least with a regular first date you know the girl found you _mildly_ appealing. This was a total shot in the dark.

 

He gave Robb’s name to the maitre’d. That was all a part of it, Ella loved suspense.

 

He was ushered over to a table in the corner. He knew it must be coveted, two corners of it were on a banquette, which Ella had told him long ago made things more _romantic._ According to her, Robb would always whisper sweet things in her ear over dessert, though according to Robb, they were usually utterly filthy.

 

He sat down and waited, setting the blue rose onto the table in front of him. He wanted a glass of whiskey, but he knew that wouldn’t exactly make the best impression on his date and he had been assured by both Robb and Ella that she was worth making a good impression on her.

 

_“She’s stunning,” Ella said._

 

_“And so sweet,” Robb confirmed._

 

_“You’ll adore her,” Ella promised._

 

_“I bet by the end of dinner you’ll feel like you’ve known her for years,” Robb offered._

 

Jon highly doubted it, even though he usually trusted Robb and Ella implicitly.

 

He turned towards the door and saw a slender figure in a navy blue dress being escorted right towards him. He saw the rose before anything else and then his eyes landed on the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

 

He stood up, his throat was dry and he really wished he’d given in and had that whiskey.

 

She looked at him questioningly, as though she didn’t understand why the maitre’d was bringing her towards him, so he reached on the table and picked up the winter rose, waving it slightly.

 

Realisation dawned in her eyes and he looked away from them in case disappointment came to rest there. He wasn’t sure that he could take it if he did.

 

“Jon Snow,” she said by way of greeting.

 

“Sansa Stark,” he offered in return.

 

 _“You’ll feel like you’ve known her for years,”_ Robb had said. Robb his hilarious and completely dead best friend.

 

Oh he’d known her for years, ever since he’d met Robb in pre-school and she’d been gurgling happily in her bouncy seat. He’d known her for all but one of her twenty five years.

 

And he’d been in love with her for at least twelve of them.

 

***

 

She couldn’t quite believe that she’d allowed Robb to talk her into this.

 

He’d caught her of guard last week by asking. In all her life, she had never known her big brother to encourage her to date. He wanted her to be happy, she knew, but if that happiness could be achieved by spending all of her time safe with him and Ella and their family then more the better.

 

_“I can’t believe you want to set me up with someone,” she scoffed, “Aren’t you the same man who has threatened every one of my last four boyfriends?”_

 

_“Well yeah,” Robb nodded, stuffing his face with the lemon bars she’d made for the whole family. The plate was now halfway gone. “But that’s because they were assholes who didn’t deserve you. At least this way, I know he’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve you - no one could - but he won’t hurt you.”_

 

_“You’re not playing fair,” she whined._

 

_He was so good, and so caring, it was obnoxious._

 

_“Never have, never will,” he grinned,“Come on Dovey. Give happiness just one more chance.”_

 

So it was that at 8 o’clock on the dot she walked into Last Hearth, her favorite restaurant in the city (they had the yummiest brussel sprouts).

 

She smoothed down the dress Robb had suggested, though she suspected that came from Ella. It was navy blue and silk and she was pleased that other patrons were dressed similarly. It was a great tragedy that no one seemed to dress up anymore and she wouldn’t want her date to think she’d been _so_ eager to please.

 

She gave Robb’s name to the maitre’d and he nodded at her and escorted her through the dining room.

 

She fiddled with the Winter Rose she held in her hand nervously and looked around.

 

Then, to her utter dismay, she saw Jon Snow of all people sitting at the corner table.

 

_Why does he have to be here? Couldn’t the gods have at least given whatever poor bastard has been set up with me a chance? How am I supposed to care about them when Jon Elliot Snow is sitting a few tables away?_

 

Jon stood up when he saw her and she was about to say to the maitre’d that she was just going to greet a friend quickly when he waved something at her. A single Winter Rose.

 

She tried to keep her face placid, though she searched his for signs of disappointment. He averted her gaze and her stomach plummetted. Of course, he had thought tonight was a date, a real date with a girl he might really be interested in. She wondered briefly if he had thought that he was going to get laid tonight and blushed at the thought.

 

The maitre’d stood in front of Jon with a flourish as though this was a great unveiling and she mustered all of her strength to greet him with a calm, “Jon Snow.”

 

“Sansa Stark,” he said in that velvet voice that always made her name sound like a caress.

 

“Your waiter will be with you in a moment,” the maitre’d said and took his leave.

 

“So… I assume that Winter Rose isn’t a coincidence?,” Jon asked.

 

“Would you prefer to pretend that it was?,” she couldn’t help but ask.

 

He blanched and she regretted it instantly but he recovered quickly, a small smile whispering in the corner of his eyes, “Of course not. You look beautiful, Dovey,” he said kissing her cheek, “Like always.”

 

He had always been kind, unfailingly so, and he’d been calling her beautiful since before she knew that not everyone in the world was. It didn’t _mean_ anything, she knew that.

 

“Well you certainly clean up nice,” she said back, “I’m glad I chose that color over the blue.”

 

He was wearing the sweater she’d bought him for his birthday last year. Another detail to thank Ella for she was sure.

 

“Me too,” he nodded, the tips of his ears turning pink, “It’s my favorite… should we um…?,” he asked gesturing to the banquette.

 

“Oh, of course,” she nodded and they sat down.

 

They were seated at the corner table, the most romantic one in the restaurant, and according to Northern Times, the most romantic one in the city.

 

“So…,” she said, suddenly completely incapable of thinking of anything interesting to say.

 

Love had a way of making a smart girl stupid.

 

***

 

"Do you really think this will work?," Robb asked her.

 

Ella rolled her eyes, "Are you starting to doubt me now?"

 

"Never," he said, pulling her to him, "I just know how stubborn they are..."

 

"Which is why our intervention was necessary,” she reasoned, running her hands over his sweater-clad chest. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek over his heart and went on, “The good news is that they are as predictable as they are stubborn. In fact, I can tell you exactly how it's going to go.”

 

“Is that right?,” he asked with a grin, “Go on then.”

 

“First... they are going to to act as though they are angry with us because neither of them realises that the other one is just as head over heels for _them_..."

 

*

 

"I'm going to _kill_ Robb and Ella," Jon grumbled.

 

"I think that's a little unfair," she scoffed and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that he didn't mean that in a bad way about her, but she said, "There's no way Robb had the foresight to do this. Killing Ella will probably be sufficient."

 

He chuckled and nodded, "That's true. I'll forgive him, he knows not what he does."

 

She giggled wind chimes and then her face fell, "Do you... Well... I mean... I'd understand if you wanted to... I don't want to ruin your Friday evening..."

 

_Ruin. You're cute._

 

How many times had he imagined asking her out? No more than the number of times that he’d chickened out.

 

He’d been mad about her at least since she was thirteen years old. Before then he hadn’t quite _realised_ why he always got sweaty around her and why her opinion seemed to matter so much.

 

It had all changed on her thirteenth birthday. It was the first year she had a boy-girl party and he and Robb and Theon had all promised to attend. It was no skin off Robb’s nose who had already been dating Ella for a year at that point, having realised much earlier (at the age of eight during a terrible thunderstorm) that she was his beloved. 

 

They played spin the bottle and Sansa had spun first, she being the birthday girl. He had somehow been next to Joffrey, Ella’s horrible older brother, and the bottle had landed right in between them. It had been Joffrey who had taken the bottle and turned it towards himself before marching proudly over and planting a kiss on Sansa’s lips.

 

She had been beet red but his knuckles had been white he was so angry. He realised then that he wasn’t just angry, he was _jealous_ , and more than anything he was _upset_ that it hadn’t been him.

 

He’d pushed those feelings down, always coming up with some excuse or other not to pursue her. But now sitting next to her all of those excuses fell right out of his head.

 

"Well um... we're both here, right?," he suggested, "We have to eat... and I know how much you love their kale or whatever green thing is most popular this week."

 

"It's their _brussel sprouts_ and they are _iconic_ and _timeless_ , _"_ she said haughtily.

 

"Well then," he said, picking up his menu with a flourish and earning that giggle again. 

 

*

 

"Okay, well that could last through dessert...," Robb reasoned. 

 

"Oh no," Ella said with a smile, "Because then we bring out the trump card..."

 

*

 

It became quite clear that in order for her to get through this date, alcohol would have to be involved.

 

They’d at least made it through the initial awkwardness, there was no icebreaker greater than how impossibly annoying their completely loving and totally wonderful best friends could be.

 

And it wasn’t as though, once she had slowed her heart rate, that Jon was so difficult to talk to or anything. He wasn’t much one for small talk, but there was no need for small talk between them. She had always seemed to confide in him, all apart from one topic of course, because he was such a good listener. He _really_ listened, thoughtfully, always nodding and never interrupting. He’d ask questions that made you _know_ he was really thinking about what you were saying.

 

Even still he smelled so good and he looked so good and he was sitting so very close to her that she was afraid if she didn’t have something to do with her hands she might just removed his hair from it’s bun and run her fingers through it.

 

"There's this red wine here that I really like actually," Jon said, as though reading her mind. "If you wanted to split a bottle? Though if you'd prefer a lemon drop martini I can get something else..."

 

She told herself that it didn’t matter that he knew her favorite drink. If he was sitting with Arya or Robb or Ella he’d know what all of their favorite drinks were too. He just knew everything about her, the way you did with the people you knew your entire life.

 

It didn’t mean anything, but she blushed all the same.

 

"Wine sounds good," she nodded, "Which bottle is it?"

 

She picked up the wine list and because they were on a corner, it was very easy for him to lean in next to her. He really did smell so good and he'd trimmed his beard for tonight and she had the ridiculous urge to lick his neck.

 

"Fuck...Ella even _told_ me it before I came... um...," he said scanning over the list.

 

"Pardon me," a voice said from above them and they looked to find a waiter proffering a bottle. "A bottle of The Wight 74, with compliments..."

 

"Is that-," she started.

 

"Yep," Jon confirmed with his eyes closed.

 

Sansa had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. He was so adorable when he was annoyed.

 

She remembered her thirteenth birthday. She had been upset when it had been Joffrey who she’d ended up kissing and had gone outside to get some fresh air and found him there. He was snippy with her and she’d gotten angry and then as though he couldn’t help it he just grabbed a small box out of his pocket and shoved it at her. It had been a necklace with a dragonfly on it and he’d been so surprised when she wanted to put it on immediately. She still had it and was surprised Ella hadn’t recommended she wear it.

 

"That wouldn't happen to be compliments of an Ella Stark, would it?," she asked.

 

The waiter smiled and, as though he'd been anticipating that question, said, "The party has asked to remain nameless to protect your unborn godchild."

 

"Unbo-," Jon said and then looked at her.

 

Tears pricked her eyes as she looked back. She knew that Ella and Robb had been trying for a few months but Robb hadn't said anything when she'd seen him earlier.

 

She started to laugh and so did Jon. There were tears in his eyes and she wiped the ones running down her cheeks. He pulled her to him and she sank into his embrace and she squealed and they both laughed.

 

It was so wonderful to hear this news with _him_ of all people who would love the baby just as much as her. It felt so right to be with him and it reminded her how no matter what, they would always be inextricably linked.

 

Just like Ella intended.

 

“May I?,” the waiter asked.

 

She’d forgotten he was there and she nodded, easing reluctantly out of Jon’s embrace.

 

The waiter set about uncorking it and she couldn’t take it, she threw her arms around Jon’s neck, wiggling all the while.

 

“I get to be Auntie Sansa!,” she giggled. _Another little Stark to love_.

 

“Uncle Jon,” he mused, cupping the back of her head and pressing a kiss to her hair.

 

He was going to be a wonderful uncle, of that she was sure. If the baby was a boy, he’d want to be just like his Uncle Jon - brave and gentle and strong - and if the baby was a little girl, he’d treat her like a princess, the way he’d always treated Ella.

 

The way he’d always treated her.

 

Their waiter poured them a glass each and made himself scarce.

 

Jon picked up his and held it to her, “To our niece or nephew,” he said and she raised hers as well, “And their meddlesome parents.”

 

“And to you, Uncle Jon,” she said with a smile.

 

“Auntie Sansa,” he said with a small shake of his head, his eyes on hers as their glasses touched.

 

*

 

“Good work little one,” Robb said, kissing her stomach.

 

She stroked his rich auburn curls and sighed happily.

 

He leaned his cheek upon her stomach now, they were splayed out on their big bed, the baby making her tired already.

 

“Tell me what happens next,” he said, as though this were a bedtime story that she’d soon tell their child.

 

She closed her eyes and thought about the two people they loved the most and said with a lazy smile, “Next, Sansa will get giggly and Jon will get horny.”

 

“Ella!,” Robb complained.

 

“You asked…,” she reminded him.

 

***

 

“ _Oh my god,”_ she moaned and Jon made sure his napkin was well and truly covering his lap.

 

The brussel sprouts had finally arrived along with tuna tartare and freshly baked bread. Everything was delicious, including the wine, and Sansa was very appreciative.

 

“Seriously Jon,” she said, stabbing a sprout gently with her fork and raising it towards him, “You’ve got to try this.”

 

He accepted the bite and fought the urge to moan himself, chewing it and nodding at her.

 

She giggled and raised her thumb to his lips, swiping across and gathering some excess sauce and bringing it to her own mouth.

 

She looked at him like she couldn’t believe that she’d done that and he knew that he was looking at her like he too couldn’t believe that she’d done that. More than anything though, he knew he was looking at her like he very much wanted her to do it again.

 

Though he wouldn’t mind if next time she just kissed it off of him. In fact he’d go back into the kitchens right now and get a whole bottle of that sauce just so she could lick it off of him if that’s what she wanted.

 

He shook himself out of it and raised his glass to his lips again. The wine wasn’t helping, it was a _heady_ wine and it was making Sansa’s already perfect features all the more alluring. It was also making her more at ease, and when Sansa was at ease she was _touchy_. Which was exactly as wonderful and terrible as it sounded.

 

“So why?,” she asked him.

 

“Why?,” he repeated dumbly.

 

“Do you think they did this?,” she clarified.

 

_Maybe because I am hopelessly in love with you and they are completely aware of it._

 

“Boredom?,” he offered instead, earning that giggle once again.

 

***

 

“Okay but this has been happening for _years_ ,” Robb reminded her, “I mean he has been in love with her for over a decade at least. She’s been in love with him for just as long. How many millions of opportunities have they had?”

 

“Too many,” she agreed and then smiled, “But that’s when the table does it’s magic…”

 

***

 

It was on the second bottle of wine that the banquette seemed to get smaller. Or perhaps the restaurant just got louder.

 

Either way, she and Jon got closer.

 

“I can’t eat anymore,” she told him as the waiter handed them their dessert menus.

 

“You’re right,” he said with a grin, giving it a once over, and looking up at the waiter, “We’ll just have one of the lemon tarts, please.”

 

“You’re trouble, Jon Snow,” she said, taking another sip of wine.

 

“You know Theon’s theory on that phrase…,” he said.

 

Their plates had been cleared and he now rested one forearm on the table, and the other on the back of the banquette. She had found her way into the hollow of his arms and her legs were crossed towards him and their calves were touching and had been for some time.

 

She blushed because she _did_ know, but she traced the rim of her wine glass with her index finger and played dumb.

 

“Theon has so many theories…,” she said, “I’m surprised you can remember them all.”

 

“Not all,” he told her, and his voice was low when he added, “But this one just got suddenly more interesting.”

 

He was playing with her, she was sure of it. Even still she liked that quality to his voice and even though she didn’t know the rules quite yet she began to like this game.

 

“Go on then,” she said, looking up at him through lowered lashes.

 

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s… um… that…”

 

The tips of his ears had turned pink and his eyes were threatening to bug out of his head and she knew that he knew they were in uncharted territory.

 

“I remember now,” she said and took a small sip of wine.

 

He chuckled sheepishly and said, “Some of his theories are dumb.”

 

“Some,” she agreed, _but not this one_.

 

He looked at her like he’d heard her say it. Like she’d shouted it at him. His eyes were trailing over her face like he was trying to see all of her at once and she realised in that moment that it wasn’t the first time he’d looked at her like that.

 

She knew that Ella and Robb knew about her feelings for Jon. That was, after all, why they’d set this whole thing up.

 

But she thought about Ella and Robb, the two people who loved her and knew her best in the world, and she thought that maybe they wouldn’t have done this if they didn’t at least _think_ he might feel the same.

 

“Why do you think they did this?,” she asked him again.

 

***

 

“The more you talk about this, the more it kind of sounds like you are intending for them to end up in one of the restaurant bathrooms…,” Robb said with a shudder.

 

She giggled and shook her head, “Not their style. You… on the other hand…”

 

“That was one time,” he reasoned with her, his hand snaking up her stomach, over her breast, tracing her neck until he could cup her face, “And it was your fault.”

 

“What did I do?,” she asked him stubbornly.

 

“You were you,” he told her sweetly, “When a guy like me is sitting next to the girl of his dreams and she, against all reason or sense, loves him back, there’s only one thing to do.”

 

“Exactly,” she said with a smile.

 

***

 

It was now or never.

 

He had realised halfway through the first bottle of wine that Robb and Ella, the two most caring friends in the world, would never have put him in this situation if they didn’t at least have an _inkling_ that Sansa may, or at least could, feel the way for him that he felt for her.

 

He started to think so too during the second bottle of wine and she was so charming and lovely that he couldn’t help but move closer to her.

 

She hadn’t seemed to mind that and so he’d gotten closer still, because it was the only thing to do when a girl like her let you.

 

And then she’d said it. _You’re trouble Jon Snow._

 

According to Theon, when a girl said that it meant she’d already pictured sleeping with you. He usually disregarded Theon’s theories as utter crap, but this one… he would sorely like this one to be right.

 

She was looking at him like it maybe was right and he panicked and backtracked but she hadn’t. Sansa Stark was many things but a coward wasn’t one of them.

 

“Why do you think they did this?,” she asked again.

 

“Maybe they thought you deserved better than what you’ve gotten,” he told her.

 

It wasn’t cockiness that made him say it. There was no pride in being better than her exes.

 

“Is that what you think?,” she asked softly.

 

“You know it is,” he said in a low voice, “How many times do I have to tell you that for you to know it to be true?”

 

He’d been there through every relationship. The tears and the betrayals, the cheating, even the one _hitting_. He’d seen it all and he always told her that she deserved better, that she deserved to be cherished and treated like the angel that she was.

 

She never believed him though, maybe because he’d never shown her.

 

“Maybe it’s you they were looking out for,” she mused, “After Ygritte and Val… maybe they thought you needed someone more…”

 

She trailed off as though she couldn’t think of any way that she was better than the girls he’d dated before. As though she wasn’t miles ahead of any other girl that could possibly have come before. As though she wasn’t the human embodiment of perfection.

 

“Kind?,” he asked her, “Thoughtful? Lovely in every conceivable way…?”

 

She looked at him with her wide blue eyes, a delicious blush rising on her cheeks.

 

He lifted his arm that had been resting on the banquette and took his hand and brushed some silky hair off of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

 

“Jon,” she said and he stopped as though cold water had been splashed on him.

 

He had been about to lean in, but he must have been imagining it. He must have misread it. Of course he had. How could a girl like her ever want _him_?

 

“Yeah?,” he managed to ask.

 

She let out a shaky breath and asked, “Do you remember my thirteenth birthday party?”

 

***

 

“So just like that, huh?,” Robb asked. “After years of wanting one another, they’ll just give in, all because of a booth?”

 

“Not because of a booth,” she shook her head, “Because they know _us_. When they stop doubting themselves they’ll realise that we would never do this unless we knew they were both all in.”

 

“Where were you a decade ago?,” he asked her.

 

“Right here, by their side,” she said, “Hoping they’d stop being idiots long enough to see the most obvious truth of them all.”

 

***

 

She was an idiot and she’d ruined it.

 

He had been looking at her like he might kiss her and then she’d just _ruined_ it.

 

Jon placed his arm back on the banquette and moved the other to reach for the bottle of wine. He poured the last drops into her glass and his and then looked at her.

 

He went to set it back down on the table, but instead of putting it standing upright he’d laid it on it’s side and turned it, definitively, and beautifully, towards her.

 

“It’s twelve years too late,” he said, “And my palms are still sweaty but I love you even more now than I did then. _Happy birthday, Sansa Stark._ ”

 

And just like that he kissed her. He kissed her and she was thirteen again. Nothing bad had ever happened to her. She had never been cheated on, no boy had ever yelled at her, there was certainly no boy who had ever hit her. He kissed her and it was like she was pure and unsullied once again.

 

And he loved her.

 

She kissed him back, because she loved him too. She’d loved him at her boy-girl party and during every relationship that followed. She’d loved him at Robb and Ella’s wedding when he’d walked right over to her while she was standing with Ramsay. They’d been fighting about something because he was _ruining_ what was meant to be a wonderful day and Jon had taken her hand, and said, “Sorry mate, it’s tradition,” because he’d been the best man and she’d been the maid of honor but he hadn’t _seemed_ sorry at all.

 

And he’d held her so gently and said, “ _Why are you doing this to yourself again, Dovey?_ ”

 

And she’d said, “ _I don’t want to talk about it. Just dance with me a bit longer, won’t you?_ ”

 

“ _I’ll dance with you all night,_ ” he promised, “ _If it keeps you out of his reach._ ”

 

“You can’t do this,” she broke away and his eyes were as black as midnight and he moved to get away from her but she held him close, close enough that no one else could reach her. “If it’s not forever. I won’t…”

 

“It’s already been always,” he told her, “And it’ll be forever too. Just love me back, Dovey, because you own me. I’ll love you either way but it’ll make forever so much better if you _just_ love me back.”

 

“I’ve never had much choice when it comes to loving you,” she confessed, “No choice at all. I just do. I always have and I always will. I love you _Jon Elliot Snow._ ”

 

He kissed her again, and she was no longer thirteen, she was twenty five, and though it might have been twelve years too late, it was all the sweeter knowing that she’d never have to live without it again.

 

***

 

They must have fallen asleep before she finished the story, because it was light outside when her eyes opened.

 

She was alone in bed, well Grey Wind was there but Robb was gone, and she rose and brushed her teeth, slipping on her slippers before padding into the kitchen.

 

“Morning sweetheart,” Robb said from the stove where he was making pancakes.

 

“What time is it?,” she asked, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade on her way to get a glass of water.

 

“Almost ten,” he said and she heard his grin when he said, “Mom thinks that means it’s a boy.”

 

They’d only told his parents so far. Well, now Jon and Sansa knew too but no one else. She got emotional every time she thought about her goodparents’ reaction to the news and she went and hugged him from behind.

 

“And if it isn’t?,” she asked softly.

 

She knew he wanted a boy. He wanted many children but he wanted a boy first.

 

“Then our daughter will be another beauty, just like her mother, and I will love her more than life itself, just like I do her mother,” he promised her.

 

She turned him around and stood on her tiptoes so that she could kiss him. She loved him so madly, and the way he loved her was her favorite thing about herself.

 

It was the only reason why she’d done what she did, so that Jon and Sansa could know the happiness that she and Robb had been lucky to have for so long.

 

“Do you think we should call them?,” she asked with a hopeful smile.

 

“What if you were wrong?,” he asked her. She fixed him with a look and he grinned, “Let’s call Sansa first.”

 

She grabbed her phone and dialled the familiar number. She answered after two rings.

 

“YOU’RE PREGNANT!,” Sansa squealed.

 

“WE’RE PREGNANT!,” they yelled back.

 

“What do you say, Auntie Sansa?,” she asked, “Can we count on you as godmother?”

 

“Of course you can!,” Sansa giggled, “I can’t wait to hug you both, right after I MURDER you!”

 

Ella felt fear for the first time in this whole thing and she said slowly, “Did… did it not go well?”

 

“Jon they want to know how our date went,” she heard Sansa say and Ella screamed bloody murder.

 

“Terribly,” Jon said sleepily.

 

“By the gods,” Robb grumbled as she jumped up and down.

 

“Terribly is it?,” Sansa asked flirtatiously and she could practically see her pout.

 

“Yep,” Jon said with a smile in his voice, “Think I’ll have to take you out again tonight just to make up for it.”

 

“Come to dinner at our place,” Ella offered, “We can celebrate.”

 

“Baby or relationship?,” Robb asked.

 

“Both, everything! I don’t care just will you come over tonight please? You’ll forgive me for meddling, won’t you?,” she asked.

 

“You?,” Sansa scoffed, “We had this pegged as being all Robb’s idea…”

 

“Finally someone recognises my genius,” Robb said as though long suffering.

 

They all said their goodbyes and hung up with promises of dinner later and she hopped up on the counter as Robb handed her a plate of pancakes and a fork.

 

She hummed to herself as she bit into one and he ate his own with a small smile on his face.

 

“You’re already planning their wedding, aren’t you?,” he asked her.

 

“It’ll be in June,” she nodded, “It’s Sansa’s favorite month… you’ll wear a kilt. Don’t worry, you’ll look great.”

 

“Ella…,” he warned.

 

“I just want Sansa to be loved the way you love me. And I want Jon to be loved the way I love you. Is that so terrible?,” she asked him.

 

“No, sweetheart,” he said, “Like everything about you, that is absolutely perfect.”

 

***

 

“You know Ella will have us married off come Winter, don’t you?,” she asked Jon as he pulled her to his chest.

 

“Fine by me,” he said, his fingers trailing her naked back, “Though I thought you’d want to get married in June.”

 

“What makes you say that?,” she asked.

 

“It’s your favorite month,” he reminded her.

 

“I meant…,” she trailed off, not wanting to ruin the perfection of the evening and the morning by saying anything stupid.

 

“I know what you meant,” he said, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him, “And I’m telling you I’ll marry you any month, any day, any hour that you want. I’ll marry you in front of 500 people or in a court house with just Robb and Ella as witnesses. What did you think I meant by forever, Sansa?”

 

“June sounds good,” she said with a smile, “What will we do until then?”

 

“Oh, I’m not worried,” he said with a devilish grin, rolling them over so he was on top of her, “We’ll think of something…”

 

“Forever,” she mused, as he kissed down her neck to her breasts, “That’s a lot of somethings…”

 

He looked up at her and grinned roguishly, “Shall we begin?”


	18. You take me higher than I've ever been (baby)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one for @sansaclarkes. Thank you for the lovely prompt my dear, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> "hi!!! It’s sansaclarkes alsjfjskak sorry to bother you on here but I didn’t wanna totally clog up your comments & was wondering & only if it strikes your fancy if you’d do a have never met eachother before jonsa stuck in an elevator one shot? they could be going to meet robb or Ella at work or something? I know it’s SUPER cliche but eh & again only if you want to! "
> 
> OH I WANT TO! But I am sorry that I tweaked it a little...

 

Sansa was running late. As a rule Sansa Stark was never late.

 

She’d planned on walking to her family’s company headquarters but then it had been _pouring_ so of course she hadn’t been able to get a taxi for ages and when she did she was stuck in bumper to bumper city traffic and her new suede boots might as well be ruined and… well it just wasn’t a very good start to her day.

 

She usually wouldn’t be starting her day at noon either but she’d just moved back a couple weeks ago and she hadn’t exactly settled in yet so she had been waist deep in curtains and dishes trying desperately to get her apartment together in advance of starting her new job on Monday.

 

The point was that by the time she entered Stark Industries and saw those elevator doors about to close she had _had_ it, so she did an inelegant sort of yelp and an ill-advised karate kick and stumbled in - right into the arms of a very confused and very gorgeous stranger.

 

“Seven hells,” he grunted as he caught her.

 

She braced herself against his chest, his deliciously muscular chest and looked up at him. He had the most unbelievable charcoal eyes that matched the soft wool of his sweater and he was holding her upper arms and had a bemused smirk on his face.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head, regretfully disengaging from him.

 

He let her go and the smirk turned into a grin and he scratched his beard, “Don’t be, I just had no idea that the gods’ timing was quite so perfect.”

 

“Hmm?,” she asked in confusion.

 

“Oh, yeah, I was just standing here thinking it had been a really long time since I’d seen a _truly_ knock you over beautiful woman and - well here you are,” he said.

 

It sounded like a line but for some reason he didn’t seem like the sort to drop them.

 

“Well I didn’t knock you over,” she said flirtatiously, “ _Technically_.”

 

“The day is young,” he said flirtatiously back and then colored and cleared his throat, “That sounded… I mean… by the gods I am such an idiot.”

 

“Well I am the one that just did a karate kick into an elevator so…,” she pointed out.

 

“That was impressive by the way, black belt?,” he asked her.

 

“Could’ve gone pro, but didn’t want to be in the spotlight, you know?,” she joked and he grinned and nodded as though he _did_ know.

 

They road in silence for a few floors, and she saw that he had already pressed the button for the top floor - 55, the Executive Floor of Stark Industries.

 

The elevator stopped at floor 6 and a group of loud businessmen got in and she and the stranger both moved to the back of the elevator and ended up quite close together. He smiled at her sheepishly and she smiled back, trying to determine what exactly he smelled like.

 

Whatever it was she wanted more of.

 

The businessmen got off on floor 8 and she and the stranger both moved a half a foot away from the other.

 

“Stark Industries?,” he asked her.

 

She nodded, “My brother is taking me to lunch. Do you have an interview?”

 

_Please say no, please say no._

 

“Oh, no, I’m just meeting a friend,” he said.

 

She had the strange desire to know if the friend was a girl, feeling a pit in her stomach that it might be. That was ridiculous, they’d only just met, she had no right to feel jealous or - anything - really when it came to him.

 

“It’s a guy,” he said and then cleared his throat, “The um…friend.”

 

It was strange that a guy this gorgeous would be so horribly unsure of himself. Strange and endearing and terribly adorable.

 

“So is my brother,” she said automatically and then closed her eyes and groaned.

 

He chuckled and said, “Oh one of those _male_ brothers, interesting…”

 

She was about to give him a haughty retort when the elevator stopped again on floor 19 and a very old woman got in.

 

“Oh Sansa, darling!,” she said.

 

“Nanny!,” she exclaimed happily.

 

She embraced the woman, smelling her familiar smell of peppermint.

 

“Oh we are so happy you’ve come home,” she said, smoothing her hair, “The wolves were not the same without you.”

 

“I was not the same without them!,” she said honestly.

 

“You’ll come for tea? Next weekend once you’ve settled in?,” Nan asked her.

 

“I’d love to, I’ll call you next week,” Sansa promised and Nan nodded and stroked her cheek as the elevator doors opened on floor 23 and she got out.

 

“Sorority sister?,” the stranger asked her and she bit the inside of her cheek.

 

It didn’t work and she let out a laugh in a snort and he let out a deep chuckle that she felt in her entire body.

 

“Where did you move back from?,” he asked as they climbed higher and higher.

 

“King’s Landing,” she said with as much strength in her voice as she could muster.

 

“The weather bring you back?,” he asked with a grin.

 

She willed her heart rate to slow. She was going to have to get used to answering this question.

 

“Something like that,” she said with a smile but she knew her voice sounded hollow.

 

He looked at her like he wanted to ask something further but he didn’t so they simply road in silence another ten floors.

 

They stopped once again on floor 42 and a large group of people entered in only to get off on floor 43.

 

This time when the people left neither her nor the stranger moved away and they inched higher and higher.

 

At floor 50 he cleared his throat and said, “Look um… I’ve only got five - four more floors to ask your name, so… what’s your name?”

 

“I’m Sansa,” she said, smiling at the idea he’d ridden 50 floors curious about something as simple as her name.

 

“Jon Snow,” he said and held out his hand.

 

They couldn’t have been together for more than four minutes but even still it felt charged when their hands touched.

 

He didn’t let go and neither did she until the elevator doors opened on floor 55.

 

“Well, Jon Snow,” she said with a small smile, “It was nice to meet you…”

 

“And you Sansa…,” he said.

 

She shifted her bag over her shoulder once again and gave him one last smile before she turned left and began to walk down the familiar corridor.

 

To her surprise she felt him behind her and she turned with a bemused expression.

 

“I promise I’m not following you,” he said with his hands up.

 

 _Too bad_ she thought as they fell into step beside one another.

 

She opened the glass door to the executive inlet and waved at the receptionist Ros. To her surprise, so did Jon and they turned left again.

 

She saw the familiar golden hair of her oldest friend, Ella Baratheon and grinned.

 

To her surprise Ella furrowed her brow and stood up crossing to her, “Dovey? What are you doing here?”

 

“I’ve got lunch with -,” she started.

 

Robb popped his head out and smiled when he saw her, “Dovey!,” he said and embraced her before turning inquisitively to Jon.

 

“Jon, what are you doing here?,” he asked.

 

So at least she knew Jon wasn’t a _total_ stranger who had just followed her here.

 

“He’s here for lunch with you,” Ella supplied.

 

“But I made lunch plans with Sansa,” Robb told her as though she should have known that.

 

“And did you put it in your calendar?,” Ella asked him with a raise of an eyebrow.

 

Robb colored, “No.”

 

“So whose fault is it that you’re double booked?,” Ella asked, clearly trying to hide her smile.

 

“Mine,” Robb said and hung his head.

 

Ella clucked her tongue and winked at Sansa who couldn’t help but giggle in response. Robb had hired Ella as his assistant when she was first out of college but in the past year it had become increasingly unclear who in fact was working for who. Though Robb was completely dependent on her and unquestionably in love with her.

 

“Jon I’m so sorry about this,” Robb said and then turned to her, “We met on the Tarly merger, have you two met? Jon Snow this is my little sister Sansa.”

 

“So this is that male brother of yours?,” Jon asked her with a grin.

 

“Afraid so,” she nodded.

 

“Oh good so you two _have_ already met,” Ella said with a small smile, “Well I think the solution is very simple here… you should all go to lunch.”

 

Robb and Jon looked at each other which gave Sansa the opportunity to narrow her eyes at Ella. Ella’s only response was to stick her tongue out at her so Sansa decided payment in kind was the right course of action.

 

“Well then you’ll have to join us,” she said and tugged on Robb’s arm, “Won’t she Wolf?”

 

“Oh… you know,” Ella said, “I have to um…man the phones. I mean what would Theon do if he couldn’t get a hold of him?”

 

“Theon isn’t the only person who calls me!,” Robb protested.

 

He really shouldn’t have protested so hard, he was the youngest CEO in the country at one of the top companies. Even still, Ella Baratheon reduced him to a pile of mush and he couldn’t help flirting with her.

 

“You’re right but you’re Mom has your cell phone number,” Ella teased.

 

Jon chuckled and said, “You definitely have to come. Something tells me the two of you know how to keep Robb on his toes.”

 

“They bully me,” Robb nodded, and then grinned, “And I love it. I’ll grab my coat, Ellabell you are officially off duty.”

 

They all walked towards the elevator and even though Ella was off duty Robb still fell into step beside her as though he couldn’t help it.

 

They took the elevator down and found that the rain had thankfully stopped and they walked the short distance to a little bistro that was her favorite in the area.

 

“Stark party for 4,” Robb said to the maitre’d who swept them towards a table.

 

They all settled in and began looking at menus and chatting. It turned out that Jon’s assistant Gilly was the girl Ella and her were having drinks with tomorrow and that Jon and Robb were heading out with her fiance Sam so it only served to reason that they would all meet up at some point.

 

Robb and Ella were chatting happily, seated next to each other while she and Jon did the same. It was all very neat and tidy.

 

A little _too_ neat and tidy, she realised.

 

“Wait a minute,” she said, interrupting everyone. “If Robb double booked us by accident…how did you already have a reservation for four?”

 

Robb colored and Ella bit her lip trying not to grin. She looked over at Jon to see if he was in on this too but he looked just as confused, though not exactly displeased she was happy to find.

 

“Well,” Robb started and then looked at Ella. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head like she was not going to help him out of this and he let out a deep breath and said, “We thought you should meet.”

 

“So that little ditty about him not putting it in his calendar was just - what?,” Jon asked Ella.

 

“My time in Vale University’s drama department put to good use,” she said primly.

 

“You were in that department for a _semester,_ ” she reminded her.

 

“Yeah well it was a _short_ ditty,” Ella said stubbornly and Robb looked at her with an open-mouthed grin.

 

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of it. She looked up at him and her beautiful face turned _transcendent_ with happiness as their eyes met.

 

“Wait a minute…,” Jon said, “You finally did it?”

 

Sansa looked in between her brother and her best friend and forgot all about their theatrics, “Really? Truly? How? When?”

 

“The short version is that Alys Karstark called to ask me out to dinner and Ella gave her two weeks notice in a fit of jealous rage,” Robb said with a grin.

 

“And the long version details the ways in which Robb interrupted date after date of mine with _work emergencies_ for six straight months and didn’t bother to tell me that Alys Karstark was calling to invite him to dinner to meet her new girlfriend just so that I would get jealous and give my two weeks notice in… a very dignified manner,” Ella corrected.

 

“You called me an asshat!,” Robb said with a chuckle.

 

“Well if the ass fits,” Ella mumbled.

 

Robb grinned at her and threw his arm around her, pulling her towards him by the side of her face and pressing kisses to her cheek until she blushed.

 

“Is this what tomorrow night is going to be like?,” Jon asked with a grin.

 

“Probably,” Ella told him honestly.

 

“Count me in,” Sansa said happily, sipping her lemon water.

 

She’d been waiting ages for them to get together and she wasn’t going to let a little PDA get in the way of her absolute giddiness.

 

“You know you _could_ have just introduced us then” Jon pointed out.

 

“Yeah but where’s the fun in that?,” Robb asked with a grin.

 

“Seriously, this is such a better story,” Ella nodded.

 

Sansa didn’t point out that it would only make a good story if Jon was interested in her.

 

“You can tell it at our wedding,” Jon said with a teasing grin just for her.

 

Maybe it was a good story after all.

 


	19. Forever, Never, and Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for @patricia who is my sister in fluff! She requested a follow-up tracing Ella and Robb's backstory from Love is Blind (Ch. 17). 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy - make a dentist appointment though.

 

The rain was constant. It was not the quiet pitter patter of a lazy October rain but a great big July storm when one could almost imagine the windows shattering against it’s onslaught.

 

It was furthered by the great cracks of thunder and the lightening that followed, brightening up the entire room until you could almost pretend it was daylight, only for it to retreat once again and bathe the room in darkness.

 

Robb had never minded thunderstorms and at eight he would be far too old anyway to be scared of them, but that summer he realised just how much he loved them.

 

“Robby?,” a small voice called as his door creaked open.

 

“Over here, Ella,” he called.

 

“It’s too dark,” she protested.

 

He got out of bed and walked over to her. He took her small hand in his and closed the door.

 

“How can you see me?,” she asked.

 

“I don’t need to see you,” he pointed out, “I can feel you. Come on, just hold onto me.”

 

She grabbed onto his hand with her other one too and he lead her back to the bed. He’d gotten rid of his step stool a couple of years before after a growth spurt, so he picked her up so she could crawl onto the bed.

 

His bed was pressed up against the window and she sat on her knees, her little fingers pressed up against the glass.

 

A crash of thunder boomed and she flinched so he went next to her and pressed his arm against hers.

 

He turned to her, knowing what would happen next and just like that, the room was light again and he could see her golden hair mussed from sleep and the flash of lightning in her bright green eyes, her tiny six year old frame covered in a light pink nightgown that nearly touched her toes.

 

“Can it get us?,” she asked.

 

“No… it’s nowhere near here,” he promised, remembering what he’d learned in school about the beats between the thunder and the lightning. “But there’s something much worse close by.”

 

“What?,” she asked, and he didn’t have to see her now to know that her eyes were wide.

 

“ME!,” he roared, tackling her back to the pillows.

 

She shrieked in laughter as he tickled her and somehow they ended up under the covers.

 

Another crack of thunder hit and she jumped, bunching his t shirt in her little hands so he took the sheet and brought it over their heads. He pulled her close, twirling her silky hair in his finger.

 

They laid there silently for a long while and at the next crack of thunder, Ella didn’t flinch.

 

He looked down at her as the lightning flashed and she was looking at him peacefully, a small smile on her lips.

 

“You aren’t afraid anymore?,” he asked her.

 

She shook her head, “Not now. Nothing frightens me too much when you’re with me.”

 

Warmth flooded his body and he found himself puffing his chest slightly.

 

“Then I guess I have to stay close to you, huh?,” he asked her.

 

“Always,” she nodded, as though it made perfect sense to her, burrowing into him.

 

Thunderstorms were not the only thing he realised he loved that summer.

 

***

 

The wind was constant. It was not the gentle breeze of a warm August beach day but a great big January gust when one could almost imagine falling off the chairlift of Castle Black Mountain.

 

It was furthered by the thick cotton balls of snow that fell and swirled around with it, coating the sky and ground alike in white, until it was almost peaceful, only for a heavy gust of wind to set it all in motion once again.

 

Ella had never really been afraid of heights, and at twelve she was too old to be frightened by a little bit of wind anyway, but that winter she realised just how much she loved them.

 

“Ella?,” a concerned voice asked as she gripped the bar of the chairlift.

 

“All good, Wolf,” she said.

 

“It’s too windy,” he protested.

 

With that he, keeping one hand on the bar, hooked his arm around her waist and slid her closer to him on the seat.

 

“You’re warm,” she said, burrowing into him.

 

“How can you even feel me?,” he asked, though he gripped her tighter, “How many layers are you wearing?”

 

“Twelve,” she teased, “One for every year of my life.”

 

He chuckled but then a big gust of wind came and the hand that had been around her waist went to the bar, while the other went to meet it. His arms were ironcladaround her as the chairlift made its slow and steady journey up the mountain.

 

“Do you have her, Jon?,” Robb called out into the open air.

 

Jon turned around from his seat in the chairlift in front of them and gave them a toothy grin.

 

“She’ll be alright once we get some hot chocolate in her!,” he called back, “I’ve got her, don’t worry!”

 

Sansa would usually pop her head up and yell something back, and the fact that she didn’t told Ella just how frightened she must be.

 

“You’re not frightened, are you?,” Robb asked her.

 

She looked up at him and grinned. The air had whipped color into his cheeks and his bright blue eyes had water in them and he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

 

“Of course not,” she told him, “I told you, nothing scares me when you’re this close.”

 

His eyes got really wide and she could see the snow falling in them, and then they got close and his lips were pressed against hers. It was her first kiss, her first ever, and it was so right that it was with him.

 

“Not even that?,” he asked her when they parted.

 

“Not even that,” she said.

 

“Well it scares me,” he said sheepishly.

 

She felt her body go all gooey and she shivered burrowing deeper against him.

 

“The only thing that would scare me is if you stopped wanting to do that,” she told him honestly.

 

“Never,” he said, like it was the easiest promise he’d ever make, holding onto her tighter still.

 

It was not the wind that made her fall that winter.

 

***

 

The dark was constant. It was not the grey sky of an overcast March day but a big great October darkness when one could almost imagine never seeing the light again.

 

It was furthered by Ella’s absence that he felt in every part of his body, filling him so fully with pain, until it was almost unnoticeable, only for a violent surge of misery to remind him once again.

 

Robb had never really been on his own, and at eighteen he was too young to know how lucky that made him anyway, but that fall he realised what it was to be alone for the first time.

 

“Robby?,” her excited voice came through his cell phone.

 

“Hi Ella,” he said, forcing himself to be cheerful as he sat at his dorm room desk.

 

“Go outside,” she told him.

 

“It’s too dark,” he protested.

 

“Not for this,” she promised.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure what she was up to but he put on his shoes and grabbed his keys. He trudged down the steps of his dorm and walked outside.

 

It was dark, it always seemed to be in the Eerie, but there was no amount of darkness that could hide the sight before him. Because there was Ella Baratheon, looking beautiful and perfect right there on the walkway.

 

He hung up the phone and bound down the steps, nearly tackling her tiny body as he held her close.

 

“You came to see me?,” he asked, though it was obvious.

 

“I had to see you,” she said with a shaky breath. He knew then what a brave face she’d been putting on for the past couple months. “I couldn’t bear it.”

 

He tilted her face up to him and pressed a kiss to her waiting lips. They tasted like her lavender chapstick and _her_ and he twirled her silky hair around his finger.

 

“Come inside,” he said to her and took her hand.

 

They talked excitedly on the way up to his room, as though they’d been stockpiling stories to tell one another even though they spoke every day.

 

He was relieved that he had cleaned his room the day before as Ella unwrapped her scarf from her neck and looked around, her small hand patting the duvet she’d helped pick out that summer.

 

She turned around and looked at him and suddenly they stopped talking. He reached for her as she reached for him and they tumbled back on his bed and suddenly they were under the duvet and there was nothing else covering her beautiful body except for him.

 

He stroked her soft cheek as she looked up at him with her jade eyes, and she felt so perfect beneath him.

 

“Are you scared?,” he asked her.

 

“I should be,” she said, “But this is the first time in two months that I’m not afraid. I told you Robb, nothing scares me when you’re close by. A decade later and the only thing that’s changed is that I want you even closer still. Please, I need you. Don’t you need me?”

 

“Always,” he told her honestly, and he leaned down to kiss her.

 

Being alone was not the only thing he experienced for the first time that fall.

 

***

 

The sun was constant. It was not the bright white light of a clear January day but a great warm May haze when one could almost imagine never feeling a moment of discomfort again.

 

It was furthered by her and Robb’s delirious happiness that they wrapped around themselves, until it seemed predictable, only for one or the other to point it out andthey’d feel the rush of it once again.

 

Ella had never really questioned her happiness before, and at twenty-two she felt far too young to begin doubting herself now, but that spring she realised just how certain she truly was.

 

“Ella?,” Robb asked her.

 

“I’m awake,” she said dreamily.

 

“It’s too perfect,” he said, his fingers stroking her hair, “We can’t go back.”

 

For her graduation from Vale University that April he’d surprised her with a trip to The Reach. They’d been spending days exploring the adorable town of Highgarden, lingering over long lunches filled with wine and good bread and pulling one another into alcoves so that their lips could meet in hushed kisses.

 

They were lying now under a great willow tree in the backyard of the little house he’d rented for them and the air was filled with the smell of lilacs and sea salt and she was listening to her favorite song, the strong and steady beat of his heart.

 

She opened her eyes and traced the scruff of his jaw with her knuckle.

 

“You’d get sick of me if we stayed here, all alone,” she warned him.

 

“You know that isn’t true,” he said.

 

She’d said hers with the cadence of a lover on holiday, which is what they were, and it was the tenor of so many of their conversations, but he returned his with a deep and earthy solidity that made her pick her head up off his chest.

 

He followed suit and they both sat up and suddenly he couldn’t quite look her in the eye.

 

“Robb, I’m scared,” she said softly.

 

“Don’t be, sweetheart,” he said, his blue eyes finally meeting hers, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”

 

His actions belied his words though because he moved away from her and reached into the pocket of his jacket that had been resting on the grass beside them. When he came back to her, there were tears in his eyes and she went to comfort him.

 

She was so focused on him that she didn’t see the little box he held, not until he opened it and the diamond sparkled from the bit of sunlight shining through the branches.

 

She let out a laugh-cry, her forehead meeting his without her consent, as they both looked down at the ring. She covered her mouth to hide her tearful giggle.

 

“Ella Baratheon,” he said and she started nodding her acceptance. “Don’t interrupt me,” he chided with a grin. He took her hand and she felt warmth run through her body and she found the courage to look up at him. He sighed and there were tears in his eyes too and he said, “The first time I knew for certain that I loved you, you were only six years old, and you were cuddled up against me underneath my covers, and I knew then what I’d only guessed before, that the only thing, the _only_ thing I’d ever need was you. I knew it in the way you always know the truest things, suddenly I understood _why_ and you have been the answer to every question ever since. I love you sweetheart, more and more each day, marry me, won’t you?”

 

“I’ve never known,” she told him, bringing his hand to her lips to kiss it, “I’ve never know what it is to live in a world in which you don’t love me, and I never want to. I love you, Robb Stark, I love you so entirely - you make me feel safe and important and I’m so mad for you that some days I can’t see straight but it doesn’t matter, because even on those days I _feel_ you, and you keep me steady. I’ll marry you, Robb Stark, this minute if you want me to.”

 

He slipped the ring on her finger and gathered her face between his palms and kissed her. Kissed her like he’d do it the rest of their lives if she’d let them.

 

They rested back on the ground, tangled up in one another, and it wasn’t until the sky turned a dusky pink that he turned to her and asked, “Who should we call first?”

 

“Sansa… or Jon…,” she pondered, thinking how much easier it would be if they were just together like they were meant to be.

 

“Ella are you plotting?,” her fiancé asked her with a grin.

 

“Me? Never…,” she said with one of her own.

 

“Always,” he corrected her.

 

“But you’ll love me anyway,” she reminded him.

 

“Forever,” he promised her.

 

Happiness was the only thing she was certain of that summer, but really, when you think about it, what else did she need? 


	20. The One with the Lavender Donuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @sansaclarkes who gave me the prompt for this after I told her my country was a dumpster fire at the moment. 
> 
> BRINGING THE FLUFF BECAUSE I NEED IT.

_Promise me,_ the text message said.

 

They ignored it, like always.

 

Jon had been all bravado, but that was because he wasn’t going to be the one to face her wrath. That would fall to him, which was why there was a small box of lavender donuts on his lap on top of the container holding the lemon pie he’d picked up from Nan’s for Sansa.

 

His little sister had gone through another break-up. He had been assured by Ella that it was not the worst one by far - that one still haunted them all - instead this had been _mere_ cheating.

 

He had been assured that Ella _had_ it. That she and Sansa were going to have a night in and that he and Jon were not needed _thank you very much_ and that she would call them tomorrow to let them know the degree to which they needed to beat up Harry Hardyng but that until then they should sit tight because Sansa needed _affection_ and _alcohol_ and not to hear about all the ways in which Harry was a deadman and how he never deserved her and how they had all told her so (he’d like to say she made them sound worse than they were but in truth, Ella was never wrong). She had, however, stipulated that Grey Wind and Ghost’s presence was desired so she had picked them up from his and Jon’s apartment an hour before on her way to pick-up pizza.

 

Jon had simply scoffed at the text message from Ella, grabbing his coat and a bottle of Sansa’s favorite wine that they always kept a case of, as well as his old Direwolves football sweatshirt that he always brought her on occasions such as this. After Ramsay Jon had suggested she keep the sweater after she spent a week straight wearing it, but Sansa had assured him that it would lose its magic that way and that he should hold onto it for safe keeping.

 

Now, if you are wondering _why_ exactly Sansa would have been dating someone else only to be in this position, when she had a man who always made sure to have her favorite wine, and had a dog that treated Sansa like she was his baby, and who would wrap her up in his arms the way she wrapped herself in his sweatshirt if she only asked him to, you would be in very good company.

 

The answer, however, was sadly that _despite_ the fact that Jon Snow had loved Sansa Stark ever since he met her after his first peewee football game at the tender age of eleven he had never actually _told_ her so.

 

Sansa had taken a little longer to realise her feelings for Jon. It was a whole week later in fact when they rode on the tilt-a-whirl together at the Winterfell Carnival and he’d held her hand and hadn’t told anyone that she’d been afraid. She, of course, had never told him this either and so she found herself in a series of relationships that went from the very boring to the very terrifying.

 

At the end of each of them Jon was always there. Along with him, but he was her big brother and had never been able to stand it when she was upset, and Ella, her best friend and the ultimate love of her life.

 

By now there was a routine to things.

 

Ella always told them to be calm, and not charge in, with one exception, and they always ignored her.

 

Jon was fearless when it came to Ella because she gave him a _pass_ because even though Sansa didn’t know that he was in love with her, Ella did, and she knew how much more acutely he felt each of these break-ups, because he knew that if he only had the chance that Sansa would never cry again. She would never be cheated on or talked down to, she would never have to wonder because he’d tell her every day, that she was the one, the only one, that he was hers forever and if she’d only tell him how, he would do everything in his power to make her happy. He’d tell her every day, if he only could get the courage to tell her once.

 

Robb, on the other hand, did not get a pass from Ella. She was all bark and no bite, and wasn’t much bark, but even still he couldn’t stand it when she looked at him with anything other than love in her eyes. Because the thing was, Jon was not the only man who’d fallen in love at the tender age of eleven, the only difference was that Robb hadn’t been able to stand it past the age of seventeen, when he’d finally asked Ella to be his. The truth was, she very rarely looked at him with anything short of love, even when she was frustrated with him, because he had stolen her heart when he recovered her stolen kite and she had never once considered asking for it back.

 

Even still, he felt safer with the lavender donuts in hand.

 

They parked the car and walked in the lobby of the girls’ apartment building, waving hello to Sid the night doorman and taking the elevator up to the penthouse apartment that Ella had been gifted to her upon her graduation from university.

 

“Do you smell that?,” Jon asked as the elevator doors opened to the small vestibule.

 

“Smells like -,” Robb said, but stopped dead when he saw smoke coming from the door to the girls’ apartment.

 

“Seven hells,” Jon groaned and Robb grabbed his key and let them into the apartment.

 

They barrelled into the foyer only to find Sansa there, her hair in two pigtail braids, in yoga pants, a sports bra and fluffy slippers utilising a fire extinguisher against a flaming rubbish can.

 

Robb was about to move forward to pull her back from the flames when Ella came running in wearing a thin white tank top and a pair of his boxers, her hair up in a high ponytail and what looked to be a purple face mask on. She was holding a large bowl of water and Ghost and Grey Wind were trailing her, the latter of whom had what seemed to be a singed dishtowel hanging out of his mouth.

 

“What are you two doing here?,” she demanded when she saw them. “I said I had it under control!”

 

“This!??,” Robb demanded back, “This is what you consider _under control!?_ ”

 

Ella dumped the bowl of water on the flames which quickly petered out and gave him a _ta-da_ expression.

 

“By the _gods_ ,” Sansa said, doubling over. “We really should have seen this coming. I mean, this is _exactly_ what happens on that episode of Friends when they do the cleanse…”

 

“Cleanse?,” Jon asked, and Robb appreciated that his eyes stayed on her face, rather than her exposed skin.

 

“A boyfriend cleanse,” Ella said matter-of-factly, as though this was something that normal people did all the time.

 

“What in Seven Hells is a boyfriend cleanse?,” Robb asked.

 

“Look!,” Sansa said, holding up her hand, “If you’re going to be all judgey I at least need to go put on a shirt first.”

 

“Great idea,” Robb nodded.

 

“You have a lot of opinions for someone who was _not invited_ ,” Ella growled at him and he wondered if now was the right time to bring out the donuts.

 

“Wait uh…,” Jon said, reaching into his bag, “I mean put on whatever you want, or don’t,” he said and Robb fixed him with a look, “I mean… that’s… just here…”

 

With that he offered his sweatshirt to her like it was a dirty tissue that might disgust her, but Sansa reached for it like it was an offering from the gods. She pulled it on and the hem fell to mid-thigh and the sleeves were far too long but she wrapped her arms around herself and he could practically see the knots in her back uncoiling.

 

“So this cleanse?,” Robb asked them, trying to keep his voice free from judgment.

 

“Basically,” Sansa said, “Ella thought it would be a good idea to burn a bunch of things that I still had from exes as a way of like…recalibrating.”

 

Robb and Jon looked at Ella and she put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows as though to say _well the only thing you two have ever done is punch her ex-boyfriends_. Robb would have protested but it was true and even he could admit that that did more to recalibrate his and Jon’s feelings than Sansa’s.

 

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Jon said as though he were a detective, grabbing an umbrella and crouching down and picking up a scarf out of the bin with the tip of it, “Joffrey,” he picked out a singed photograph and said, “Dickon,” and then picked out a grey t shirt.

 

Robb stepped forward and snatched it up.

 

He turned to Ella accusingly, “Is this… is this my old Direwolves t shirt?”

 

“I felt left out,” Ella protested bashfully.

 

“Left out?,” Robb asked with a grin.

 

“I don’t _have_ any ex-boyfriends and unless you plan on keeping up this judgy stuff I don’t think I _will_ have any so…,” she mumbled.

 

He stepped forward to kiss her until she forgave him but he stopped short when he saw how viscous the face mask was.

 

“Can you take this gunk off your face so that I can kiss you?,” he asked her.

 

“Actually,” Ella said with a grin, “I’ve got a better idea…”

 

***

 

Ten minutes later after all the windows had been cracked and Robb and Jon had been poured margaritas of their own, they all settled onto the sectional.

 

Another episode of Friends was on and Ghost was splayed on Sansa while Grey Wind peered curiously over Ella’s shoulder as she applied Robb’s green face mask.

 

The one Sansa had put on him was pink and had been nice and cool when she’d applied itthoughtfully but was now starting to dry. His nose was itchy but she had smiled to herself the whole time she’d put it on him and he’d wear it all night if it made her giggle every time she looked over at him.

 

“Can you stop whining and just be a man for five minutes?,” Ella asked Robb as he complained about the smell.

 

He didn’t like the smell of coconut but Ella had told him it was meant to _rejuvenate_ tired skin and he’d been working so many hours lately at the family company that he’d acquiesced.

 

“Come now, you know I can be a man for longer than that…,” Robb said with a grin, pulling her closer to him by her waist.

 

“Robb!,” she giggled and Jon groaned.

 

“Seriously guys,” Sansa said in agreement, “Not to be _that_ person but its not all that nice for you to flaunt your domestic bliss in front of my broken heart.”

 

That reminded them all why they were there in the first place and Robb accepted the rest of his face mask in silence.

 

Ella hopped up to wash her hands and turned to him, “Jon can you help me in the kitchen for a second?”

 

Robb shrugged at him and he got up, scratching Ghost’s head on the way.

 

He walked into the kitchen to find Ella washing her hands of the face mask and he opened the pizza box on the counter and grabbed a slice.

 

“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t be here, little one,” he warned her softly.

 

“I won’t,” she promised, grabbing a dish towel and drying her hands.

 

She hopped up on the counter and sighed.

 

“Harry’s such a _fucking_ ass. Do you know it’s not even _Sansa_ he’s been cheating on? It’s the girl he’s been dating since before he _met_ Sansa. _He made SANSA THE OTHER WOMAN!_ ,” she raged.

 

“We can hear you!,” Sansa called from the living room, “AND I PREFER THE TERM MISTRESS.”

 

“Noted!,” Ella called back to her and then gave him an _oh shit_ expression that in spite of everything made him smile.

 

“Harry’s an ass,” he said quietly, “We know this, we’ve _always_ known this. The only person who _didn’t_ is that beautiful girl sitting on the couch in there.”

 

Ella nodded and reached her hand out. He handed her the slice of pizza and she took a small bite and handed it back to him.

 

“I think she did know,” she whispered to him. He stepped closer to her and leaned his hip against the counter. “I think she’s known about all of them… I mean… not the specifics of course, she’s too smart to put herself into… the point is… even if they had all just been nice boring guys like Dickon… I think she’s always known that the relationships have been doomed from the start.”

 

“Then why-,” Jon started.

 

“Because of all the things you’ve done to protect her, you’ve never done the simplest one of all,” Ella said, “Just tell her, Jon. Just _tell_ her.”

 

“Tell her what?,” Jon evaded.

 

“Jonathan Elliot Snow so help me,” she said with an annoyed sigh.

 

He ran to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed the small box and walked back over to her, opening it, “Lavender donut?”

 

“My favorite!,” Ella exclaimed giddily. “I take it all back you’re the best.”

 

“Anything for you,” he said.

 

Robb may kill him but Ella was _way_ more frightening.

 

She bit into one and chewed thoughtfully, a contented smile on her face. She broke off a piece and handed it to him and he ate it slowly as well, buying time.

 

“I’m not saying she shouldn’t just pull it together and tell you too,” Ella said quietly, “She is a strong, beautiful woman and she should have confidence in that but she _doesn’t_. And I don’t pretend that any of this is your fault because it isn’t, of _course_ it isn’t, but you are the _only_ person who has the power to keep her from getting her heart broken again. The only one in the whole world. That means you basically have a superpower and its really foolish to withhold using a superpower when it can help someone else, someone that you _love._ Don’t you think?”

 

Jon looked at her and took the rest of the donut out of her hand and shoved it in his mouth. She smacked him on the arm but went into the box and grabbed out a piece of another and watched him. He tried manfully to get the bite down but there was just so much of it. She looked at him with a grin and that made him more determined so he swallowed it with a large, admittedly painful, gulp.

 

“Well done,” she said with a nod.

 

“Thank you,” he coughed. “Isn’t it… wrong? To like… swoop now?”

 

That was part of the problem. Sansa was never single for long. It wasn’t like she _got around_ or anything, not that there was anything wrong with that, she was just a serial monogamist. The trouble was, all the guys she picked were total losers.

 

Jon, in spite of threatening each and every one of them, was not the kind of guy to try to steal another man’s girl, especially when he wasn’t totally sure that she wanted him to. There were signs of course, that she _might_ , but he forgot all about those whenever she showed up with another waste of space on her arm.

 

Robb and Ella were adamant though that she loved him too and if anyone would know it would be them. They had, after all, known about him for as long as he could remember even though he’d never come out and said it.

 

Well never soberly anyway. He and Ella had a drunken sleepover once while the Starks were on a family vacation in Braavos and after she’d plied him with whiskey he had confessed it to her.

 

“I’m not suggesting you just go lunge at her,” Ella told him with a roll of her eyes, then smiled impishly, “Though if that’s your move then I can keep Robb _very busy_ while you do so -“

 

“Gross,” he cut in and she giggled.

 

“But maybe… I don’t know… ask her to dinner? Take her for a walk? Casually mention that you’ve been in love with her for most of your life and that you’ll be in love with her for the rest of it and that it would be all together better if she would agree to be the mother of your children…,” Ella suggested.

 

“Very casual,” Jon agreed.

 

Ella giggled and hopped off the counter, tugging his arm.

 

They went back into the living room to find the two eldest Stark siblings reclined fully on the couch, chuckling at whatever Chandler was saying.

 

“Jon got me lavender donuts if you guys want some,” Ella said to them as she went over to wear Robb was sitting and settled in front of him.

 

“How nice of him,” Robb said with a glare for him as he let Ella in between his legs and pulled her back against his chest.

 

Jon fought the urge to stick his tongue out at him and sat down next to Sansa and tugged one of her braids gently.

 

“There’s lemon pie for you too,” he said softly.

 

“Thanks,” Sansa said with a smile. Her smile fell and she looked at him skittishly, before hesitantly pressing her cheek to his shoulder, “Thanks for coming,” she said sadly.

 

“Nothing’d keep me away,” he told her, leaning his head on top of hers. She wrapped her arms around his and shifted so she leaned against him entirely. He breathed in her familiar smell of lilacs and fought the urge to kiss her head. He settled for saying, “Anything for you, you know that.”

 

He wasn’t entirely sure that Ella was right. He wasn’t sure that he had a superpower or anything. The only thing that he was certain of was that he loved Sansa Stark more than anything in this world, and that he wasn’t sure he could watch her heart break once more.

 

He looked over at Ella and nodded. _I’ll do it_ , he told her silently.

 

She smiled at him, _Thank you._ And winked, _Got get ‘em tiger._

 

“Come on, Robb, let’s go get that off your face,” she said, gesturing to his face mask.

 

“But this is the-,” Robb started.

 

“Do you want your skin to peel off?,” Ella asked him curiously.

 

“No!,” Robb exclaimed.

 

“Well then,” Ella said and got off the couch and pulled Robb with her.

 

They disappeared and Jon tried to focus on the television.

 

“Can that… she was just kidding right?,” he asked, touching his face to his own mask.

 

“Yeah you can just peel it off whenever, you’re skin will stay put. Promise,” Sansa said and he could hear her smile.

 

He picked at the edges of the mask and pulled it off.

 

“How do I look?,” he asked her.

 

She looked up at him and grinned, “ _Beautiful,_ ” and then settled her head back against him.

 

He took hold of her hand and pressed a solemn kiss to the back of it. She looked up at him with a question in those blue eyes of hers and he took a deep breath.

 

***

 

“Jon?,” she asked with a gulp.

 

He was looking down at her with the most beautiful and caring pair of charcoal eyes she’d ever known.

 

It felt so right sitting here with him. He smelled so good and he felt like home and even though all she wanted was to gnaw on his jaw she could get past that and just accept him for what he was, one of the best friends she’d ever had.

 

He was the love of her life too, of that she was certain, but there was no reason for him to know that. It wasn’t really any of his business.

 

And then he’d pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. His moustache had tickled her but all she really felt was the warm steady press of his lips, the slight exhale when he let her hand drop down again. Though he didn’t release it.

 

“You look tired,” he said sadly.

 

“Oh Jon,” she said as breezily as she could muster, “Have I taught you nothing about how to treat a girl? You can’t just go telling a girl she looks tired, you might as well tell her she looks awful.”

 

He shook his head and sighed and said, “It’s not your face, this face has never looked anything short of lovely,” he released her hand now and pressed the pad of his thumb to the apple of her cheek and swiped along the bone softly. In all her life she wasn’t sure that she’d ever been touched so gently. It felt almost reverent. “It’s your heart.”

 

“You can see that?,” she asked skeptically.

 

If he could really see into her heart she knew there was only one thing that he’d find.

 

He nodded, “I’ve been seeing it for so long. Through every guy that didn’t deserve you. I never feel so helpless as when we get the call or text from Ella saying that it’s happened again.”

 

Her face grew hot, “You make me sound so pathetic.”

 

“No!,” he exclaimed, “No Sansa… You’re not. Of course you’re not. There’s nothing braver than giving love a chance. And I’ve been a coward for far too long.”

 

“You’re the bravest man I know,” she shook her head.

 

He was, he really was. The bravest and strongest, but the gentlest too. He had always been so gentle with her, and Ella and Arya too. Her father called him and Robb Northern Fools proudly, knowing they were following in his tradition.

 

“If that were true,” Jon said, “I would have said this some time ago. I would have told you on the tilt-a-whirl, when you wore your hair just like this,” he said, and tugged her braid gently again, “I would have told you before Joffrey, before Dickon, before…,” he said and she felt his whole body tense. She stroked his arm comfortingly, knowing that there was one man he’d never name in her presence again. “I would have told you every day since because it’s been true every day since - I love you Sansa Stark. I love you and I have _been_ loving you each moment since the first one. And I know. I know your heart is tired and if it’s too soon then I’ll wait, and it’s a no, a no for good, then I’ll never speak of it again but you will always have me, do you hear me? I’m not going anywhere, but gods Sansa, if you just let me love you the way I want to I promi-“

 

“Okay,” she nodded.

 

“Okay?,” he asked incredulously.

 

“You can love me,” she said, “That would be alright with me.”

 

He chuckled at her but there were tears in his eyes. There were tears in hers too so she closed them and leaned her face up towards him blindly.

 

His lips met hers as though it were perfectly easy and she knew then that he had been right. Her heart had been tired. So tired, from trying to love people she was never meant to.

 

All at once though, it woke up.

 

***

 

Ella woke up sandwiched between Robb and Grey Wind. Robb was spooning her and she was spooning Grey Wind and they were both snoring.

 

She rubbed Grey Wind’s head and sat up, going into her bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, knowing the pair of them could sleep for hours yet.

 

When she came back out, Robb was spooning Grey Wind, the dog looking like he had died and gone to the heaven of his choice.

 

“Come back to bed,” Robb urged her.

 

“I can’t,” she complained, “The third time last night nearly killed me.”

 

“I’ll kiss it better,” he promised and she felt her resolve weakening.

 

“Come on, I’ll make you bacon instead,” she said.

 

“Not exactly a fair trade,” Robb said, but he sat up anyway, pulling his shirt on.

 

He padded into the bathroom and brushed his teeth as well and came out and pulled her to him.

 

“Why do you look better in my boxers than I do?,” he asked as he looked down at her.

 

“Because you look better _out_ of them,” she said lustfully.

 

He leaned down and kissed her hungrily, picking her up by her butt. Even though he had worn her out the night before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, deepening the kiss.

 

The palm of his other hand rested against her cheek, his fingers threading into her hair and she loved him so much she could burst.

 

She was about to tell him so when she felt a paw on her arm. She looked down to see Grey Wind panting in their faces.

 

“Go away buddy,” Robb said but Grey Wind looked at him firmly.

 

“My fault,” she said, scratching Grey Wind’s head, “I said the _b_ word.”

 

She hopped down and dragged Robb out of her room. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck on the walk to the kitchen and they stopped once or twice to make out because even though they’d been together for eight years they had never really learned how to stop wanting to kiss one another.

 

As they got closer to the kitchen, Ella could practically smell the bacon and was surprised when she walked in to find it already sizzling in the pan.

 

That wasn’t the only thing though because there was Sansa Stark wearing Jon’s sweatshirt and seemingly nothing else while Jon stood there wearing an apron and a pair of his boxers and they were locked in what could only been considered a truly sloppy make-out.

 

She reached behind her and shielded Robb’s eyes as she cleared her throat.

 

“Ella, it’s a little late for that,” Robb grumbled as Jon and Sansa broke apart.

 

Sansa blushed and Jon grinned and Ella squealed and Robb groaned.

 

“Do you have enough for us?,” Ella asked, hoping some food would settle Robb’s stomach.

 

“Always, little one,” Jon said with a grin, clearly too delirious with happiness to care much for his best friend’s (and apparent future brother-in-law’s) comfort.

 

“Robb why don’t you set the table?,” she suggested. “Jon… I think there is some champagne in the fridge in the laundry room? I think this calls for celebratory mimosas…”

 

They both went to do her bidding and she ran and jumped at Sansa, wrapping her legs around her the way she’d just had her legs around Robb.

 

Sansa hugged her back, the pair of them wiggling in excitement.

 

“Okay so I know that you probably want to spend every minute with Jon right now, but you’ll save me some time and tell me the whole story, right?,” Ella asked her and hopped down.

 

“Of course I will,” Sansa said, using some tongs to flip the bacon. “Wait until I tell you about his superpower…”

 

Ella giggled, “No need. I’m the one who discovered it.”

 

Sansa turned to her and said, “Um…I fucking hope not because it involves his tongue and a part of your body that I truly pray he’s never seen…”

 

Ella looked at her and Sansa looked so smugly satisfied that Ella couldn’t help the scream that erupted her from her mouth. She wrapped Sansa in her arms again and they didn’t break apart until Robb and Jon collided with each other coming into the kitchen.

 

Robb held the fire extinguisher and Jon had taken off the apron and was wielding it like he might smother something with it.

 

Her and Sansa giggled and rolled their eyes as Robb and Jon seemed to slowly understand that they were not in fact in danger.

 

“At ease, gentlemen,” Sansa said with a grin.

 

“Yeah, we’ve got it all under control,” Ella agreed.

 

 


	21. Tell the ones who need to know, that we are heading North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @sansaclarkes who game me the prompt
> 
> Robbcella  
> very light Jonsa
> 
> fluff  
> modern  
> Christmastime!

The train slowed to a stop and Sansa wiggled excitedly next to her as signs for WINTERFELL STATION came into view.

 

“We’re here, Ella!,” she giggled.

 

In all her life, Myrcella Baratheon had never known a child quite so excited to be home. She certainly had never approached her family’s estate with anything better than steely resolve and the friends she knew from boarding school all chose to spend holidays elsewhere rather than return to fathers that spent half the time working and the rest of it with their mistress, and their mothers who spent the whole time medicated to forget about what the father was doing.

 

It had been that thought that had prompted her to tell Sansa Stark, her college roommate turned best friend, that she would be spending her Christmas Break in her Uncle Renley’s empty townhouse rather than go home to the familiar scene.

 

That had not sat well with Sansa who spoke to her parents every day and often received care packages from her big brother filled with little notes from all her other siblings and lemon cakes from her favorite bakery up North.

 

_“You are absolutely not spending your Christmas Break all alone in a depressing townhouse,” Sansa said._

 

_“It’s actually quite lovely, Loras did a wonderful job redecorating,” she argued._

 

_“You’re coming home with me,” Sansa said in that tone that made Ella understand she would not be denied._

 

_“Don’t you want time just with your family?,” Ella asked, even though she had heard so much about the Starks that she was dying to meet them all. “I don’t want to intrude.”_

 

_“You can’t intrude. You’re family too,” Sansa said sweetly. “They want to meet you so badly. Come on, Ellabell, it’ll be all cozy sweaters and hot chocolate and cocktail parties.”_

 

And just like that she’d been convinced. It wasn’t the cozy sweaters or the hot chocolate or the cocktail parties that did it, though they were three of her favorite things. It was something so much more simple than that. _You’re family too_.

 

“We’re here!,” she said with a grin back.

 

Sansa’s good mood was infectious and Ella had always been a _smile and the world will smile back_ kind of girl.

 

They grabbed their handbags and walked over to wear they’d stowed their suitcases.

 

Sansa went to grab hers just as a group of college aged boys were walking by.

 

“Hey Legs, you need help with those?,” one of them asked Sansa.

 

Ella was about to give him a piece of her mind when Sansa let out a happy cry and turned around.

 

“THEON!,” she cried and hopped into his arms, “I didn’t realised you were on this train!”

 

“Dovey, Dovey, Dovey,” he sighed and held her tight. He opened his eyes after a moment and grinned at her roguishly, “Whose the angel?”

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Sansa reprimanded as he set her down.

 

“I just-,” he started.

 

“Absolutely not, Greyjoy,” Sansa said firmly, and then fluttered her eyelashes at him, “But if you _wanted_ to help us with our bags…”

 

Theon chuckled and tugged out Sansa’s suitcase, rolling it towards one of the other boys and then he grabbed hers.

 

They all exited the train, Theon and Sansa chattering happily about which bar everyone should go to and who was going to beat who down Castle Black Mountain.

 

She fell into step between two of the other boys who introduced themselves as Pod and Grenn.

 

“THEON GREYJOY STEP AWAY FROM MY SISTER,” she heard a booming voice call from across the parking lot.

 

“ROBBY!,” Sansa called, running across the parking lot, stopping traffic completely, as she leapt into the boy’s arms.

 

He caught her easily and Ella couldn’t help but smile at the scene. She had heard so much about Sansa’s big brother, she’d even spoken to him once when Sansa had drunk dialled him. She’d been a wreck because they’d been out and Harry Hardyng, the most handsome upper classman had asked her out and she’d said no. They’d talked about it and it turned out that Sansa was hopelessly in love with her brother’s best friend, Jon Snow.

 

After seeing pictures of Jon, Ella couldn’t really blame her, and tried to console her as best she could. She’d gone to pick-up the pizza they’d had delivered from the dorm entrance and come back to find Sansa blabbering incoherently about how awful she was and how she hoped he’d still love her.

 

_“Sansa give me the phone!,” Ella demanded._

 

_“Oh no, now Ellabell is mad atmetooandIloveherRobbyIloveher,” Sansa cried._

 

_“I’m not angry,” she assured her and opened the pizza box, waving it a bit so that the smell would waft, “Aren’t you hungry?”_

 

_“Ooh pizza is here, talk to Ellabell she’ssopretty ooh pepperoni!,” Sansa said and handed Ella the phone as she grabbed a slice of pizza._

 

_“Hello, Robb?,” Ella said, blushing stupidly. It wasn’t her fault that Sansa had a picture of her and her big brother on her desk and she’d stared at it a time or two. She wasn’t really sure whose fault that was but she was inclined to say it was Sansa’s. “This is Ella…Baratheon.”_

 

_“Ella? Is Sansa okay? What’s wrong with her?,” Robb urged._

 

_“At the moment, a bit too many vodka lemonades,” Ella giggled as Sansa danced around the room with the pizza. “But she’s fine - I promise. I’ll stay up with her and make sure she’s okay.”_

 

_“Thanks - sorry, that doesn’t sound like a very fun night for you, - shut up I’ll be right in!,” Robb called to someone._

 

_“It’s alright, she’s done it for me before,” Ella said._

 

_“Is that so?,” he asked and she swore she could hear his grin. “She told me you were the tame one.”_

 

_She giggled, “It was my first frat party. I drank the punch.”_

 

_“You never drink the punch,” he sighed, “I thought you had an older brother? He should have told you that.”_

 

_She shouldn’t be surprised that he knew that. She knew a ton about him. They were probably the two people that Sansa spoke to most in the world._

 

_“Not all big brothers are like you,” she said, getting onto her bed and leaning against the pillows._

 

_“Well, from now on don’t drink the punch, and never put your drink down, and under no - and I mean no circumstances, ever trust a guy who says ‘My ex is crazy.’ Nine times out of ten the girl wasn’t crazy before they started dating.”_

 

 _She chuckled, “Any crazy exes in_ your _past?”_

 

_“Not a one,” he said, “Only very nice girls that I’m not in love with.”_

 

_She heard someone calling him in the background._

 

_“Do you need to go? She’ll be alright. I promise,” she told him._

 

_“I’ve got some time,” he said, “So uh…did you guys go out tonight?”_

 

_“We were out for a bit and then came back here and that’s when the real fun started… oh that sounded dirty, didn’t it?,” she asked._

 

_He chuckled, “A bit, and if my little sister wasn’t involved I’d press you for details…JUST A MINUTE.”_

 

_“You sound very integral to whatever is happening…,” she pointed out._

 

_Not that she was in a rush to get off the phone._

 

_“No uh… it’s just this party thing…,” he said, “It’s stupid.”_

 

_“Wait - isn’t it your birthday!?,” she asked, vaguely remembering that Sansa had mentioned that earlier._

 

_“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, “Twenty first…”_

 

_“That’s kind of a big deal, you should go!,” she said._

 

_“I guess you’re right…,” he said. “I’d um… Well I’d prefer to… I think I’ve had a lot to drink to because I’m…”_

 

_“Hey Robb?,” she asked, to put him out of his misery. “Happy Birthday.”_

 

_“Thanks Ella…bell,” he said with that grin._

 

_“Only your sister gets to call me that, and only because I can’t get her to stop!,” she explained, “Anyway, I’d sing to you if I was just a bit drunker, but as it stands, I think you should go have fun.”_

 

_“Take a shot of vodka,” he suggested. “What would you sing to me?”_

 

_Oh boy. The eldest Starks both overindulged tonight._

 

_“Hmm…,” she teased, “What would I sing to a boy on his twenty first birthday…”_

 

_He chuckled, “Oh god. I’m such an idiot. I just… you have a sweet voice. I wouldn’t mind hearing you sing.”_

 

_“Maybe one day you will,” she said, “Night Robb.”_

 

_“Night Ella.”_

 

“Have you met Stark yet?,” Theon turned around and asked her.

 

“Not really,” she said awkwardly. 

 

Theon grinned and said, “I can’t wait to see this.”

 

She was going to ask him what he meant but then they were too busy dodging cars and she didn’t get a chance.

 

“Stark!,” Theon said.

 

“Greyjoy!,” Robb said back and they did that weird man hug thing that always seems like they are kind of trying to hurt each other.

 

“ _Robby_ ,” Sansa cooed, tugging on Robb’s arm, “ _This_ is Ella.”

 

She stepped forward to offer him her hand and it was only then that she got her first real look at him and then she felt her foot slipping.

 

Her body fell back until a pair of strong arms caught her. She looked up to find concern in his cerulean eyes and she couldn’t help but giggle because that had been _close_ and now he was and it was all just a bit overwhelming.

 

“I’m Robb,” he said with a grin.

 

“I’m sorry,” she apologised and then closed her eyes in embarrassment, “I… I mean I’m Ella.”

 

“Don’t apologise… Black ice gets everyone,” he said, a dimple appearing though a full smile hadn’t.

 

“I’ve heard that,” she nodded, wondering at how strong his biceps felt under her hands, “Tricky business.”

 

“Tricky business,” he said, now with a fully formed grin.

 

Ella had always been the sort to smile when the world smiled at her, and she was even more inclined when it was a handsome, chivalrous boy, so she smiled back up at him.

 

“Um, Robb?,” Sansa asked, “Are you going to hold onto her like that the whole trip?”

 

“If he’s lucky,” Theon said and Sansa hit him.

 

Robb’s grin faltered though and he let her up. In truth, she hadn’t even realised that he was still cradling her and in spite of the quiet laughter of the others he made sure that she was steady on her feet before he let go.

 

They broke away from the other boys with promises of seeing one another later on, and Robb opened his trunk and lifted hers and Sansa’s suitcases into it.

 

She couldn’t help but admire the way those strong biceps lifted them so easily, or the view of his backside as he did.

 

“So what do you think of the _North_?,” Sansa asked knowingly in her ear.

 

“Beautiful country,” she said with a grin.

 

***

 

He had known that Ella Baratheon was a pretty girl.

 

One look at Sansa’s instagram was enough to confirm that, which was covered in pictures of the two of them going on nights out, apple picking, their faces painted at football games.

 

He’d known she was nice too, one conversation with Sansa this past semester was enough to confirm that, which were all peppered with stories about the two of them on nights out or nights in, of the funny thing Ella had said or the sweet way she’d always brought Sansa tea in the library during midterms.

 

He had even spoken to her that one time, on his birthday. He hadn’t wanted to go back inside. Not even when Jeyne Westerling was waiting for him. All he’d wanted was to stand out in the cool October air and listen to her melodic giggle. Though he was drunk he could tell that halfway through the call that she’d gotten into bed. Not in a _skeevy_ way, she just sounded comfortable. He’d pictured her and Sansa in their dorm room, artfully decorated, and he could practically feel the warmth of it.

 

It was entirely possible that he’d developed a crush on just the sound of her voice and the picture of her that he’d had in his mind from all of Sansa’s stories.

 

That was before she’d fallen right into his arms and looked up at him with those impossible eyes. That was before she’d helped his mom make dinner for everyone and been seated next to his father and made him chuckle. That was before she’d come downstairs ready for their night out in black jeans and a black sweater and high heeled black boots and said to him _You’ll warn me if you see black ice, won’t you?_

 

It had seemed like the right thing to do to say _Of course, but maybe I’ll stick close just in case?_

 

That was before she had blushed so prettily when she’d smiled at him.

 

So, now, it was more than possible that he had a crush on her. It was completely undeniable.

 

They had come to his favorite pub, him and Theon, Pod, Grenn and Jon and the girls. There were others from his class milling about but they’d all stuck together, only stopping to say hello when someone came over to do so.

 

He’d been catching up with Theon mostly, given that he and Jon went to school together and saw each other every day, and had been watching Ella out of the corner of his eye as she and Sansa tried to convince Pod to hit on different girls in the bar.

 

“The thing is, beautiful,” Theon was saying to her now though, “You’re just wrong.”

 

“You’re cute,” she nodded, taking a sip of her gin and tonic, “A good thing too because you’re just plain _stupid_.”

 

Sansa giggled at his side and he chuckled. Jon smirked and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer.

 

“How do you figure?,” Theon asked her.

 

“Because you’re quite obviously in love with this Ros girl,” Ella sighed, as though she always had to do everything herself.

 

Theon scoffed and said, “No, I’m not.”

 

He very much was.

 

“Have you ever drunk dialled her?,” Ella asked him.

 

“Course,” Theon nodded, and turned to Grenn and Pod with a grin, “In fact I intend to tonight…”

 

“At school,” Ella corrected. Robb looked at Theon who colored which told them all that the answer was _yes._ “Let me ask you this, did you ever stop and wonder _why_ you keep going back to her? _Why_ you don’t like that she is suddenly dating this other guy? _Why_ you cheated on Sansa’s poor friend Jeyne Poole?”

 

“No,” Theon gulped.

 

“Well _that_ , beautiful,” Ella said with a grin, “Is what makes you stupid.”

 

“I’m fucking in love with Ros,” Theon turned to him and said.

 

“I know,” he said.

 

“Did you know?,” Theon asked Jon.

 

“Yeah,” Jon nodded as though Theon was crazy, “I mean it’s a bit obvious…”

 

“NOT TO ME!,” Theon yelled.

 

“Okay, shh shh, okay,” Ella said, gesturing to the bartender and then at Theon. Within moments a shot of whiskey was in her hands and she held it to Theon’s lips, “It’s going to be fine. Totally fine. This isn’t a big deal. Just drink this.”

 

“How is this going to help?,” Theon asked, not taking the shot.

 

“Because you’re freaking out!,” Ella said.

 

“I’m not freaking out, you’re freaking out!,” Theon said back at her.

 

“You’re right,” Ella said and gestured to the bartender again. She made a roundabout motion with her finger and soon they all had shots of whiskey.

 

“To love,” Sansa said sweetly, “Which always shows itself sooner or later…”

 

They all clinked and he threw back the shot. They all kind of dispersed after that. Sansa dragged Ella to the makeshift dance floor and Theon went outside, either to go call Ros or have an existential crisis, maybe both. Pod and Grenn finally got the courage to go hit on the two girls they’d been staring at and it left him and Jon alone at the bar.

 

An upbeat rock song came on and they heard squeals of delight from the dance floor. He turned as did Jon and found Sansa and Ella dancing like their lives depended on it. He rested his back against the bar and sipped his scotch.

 

“We’ve been around a lot of girls,” Robb started.

 

“None like them,” Jon finished.

 

It wasn’t that what they were doing was so different. He knew any number of girls that did exactly that, that were doing exactly what they were doing at this very moment. Even still, he’d always known his sweet little sister was a different kind of girl, and it appeared she’d found a friend worthy of her.

 

“You gonna tell her?,” Robb asked him.

 

“Tell her what?,” Jon evaded, sipping his beer.

 

“Do I need to get Ella to come over here and explain it to you?,” he scoffed.

 

It was one thing to accept the love his little sister and best friend had for one another, it was a different thing entirely to have to play matchmaker.

 

“Might give you an excuse to talk to her,” Jon grinned.

 

“I’m doing just fine on my own,” he grumbled.

 

“You’ve said about ten words to her all night, though you’ve been staring at her like a serial killer for most of it,” Jon said.

 

“Well look at her!,” he argued.

 

Ella was dancing with her arms up, singing the words at Sansa as she wiggled her hips. The teeniest sliver of bare skin appeared between the hem of her sweater and the edge of her jeans and he wondered what the skin felt like there.

 

_Oh my god I even think like a serial killer._

 

“Yeah, I get it,” Jon said, “She’s beautiful and sweet and funny and bright. I’m not questioning _why_ you want her, I’m questioning _what_ you’re going to do about it.”

 

“ _I_ am going to go _to_ the bathroom,” he mimicked his tone.

 

“How is that going to help?,” Jon asked in confusion.

 

“Well… it’s not… I just have to pee…,” he mumbled.

 

Jon smirked at him and he scoffed, knocking the rest of his drink down and heading to the bathroom.

 

It took him a while to get back to where he’d been standing because he’d run into a bunch of people from high school and he’d had to make small talk with each of them.

 

Jon was nowhere to be found when he got back, and in fact, the only person from his group who was at the bar was Ella.

 

She wasn’t alone though.

 

She was talking to a guy he vaguely remembered. He thought he might have been in Sansa’s class or the class in between theirs. He was saying something to Ella and squeezed her arm to punctuate the point. Ella was nodding, twirling a lock of hair behind her back. He couldn’t see her face but she looked bored to him.

 

He walked right over to them and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently. She jumped slightly and he pressed a kiss to the back of her head. _Oh my god what is that scent?_

 

“Sorry baby, I got held up,” he told her, coming to her side and throwing his arm around her.

 

She turned to look at him like he was crazy and she said, “Oh um…that’s okay. I was just… talking to Trystane… I think you guys went to school together?”

 

“Hey Stark,” _Trystane_ said and Robb nodded at him. “Well uh…I guessed I’d better go. Nice meeting you Ella…”

 

“Nice meeting you too, have a good night,” she said sweetly.

 

When Trystane walked away he reluctantly let go of her and shifted so that he was across from her, one side leaned up against the bar.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said to her.

 

“For what?,” she asked with a furrowed brow, “Interrupting the perfectly nice conversation I was having with the cute boy?”

 

“….Yes….,” he said, though now he wasn’t so sure.

 

In truth, he hadn’t _really_ known if she was bored or not. Or uncomfortable. He just didn’t like seeing another guy hitting on her. That was _his_ plan for the night.

 

She giggled and said, “ _Thank you._ Perfectly nice bores me to tears.”

 

“Good thing I’m an asshole then,” he said with a grin.

 

She blushed but recovered quickly and said, “You’re a liar is what you are.”

 

He shrugged and bit his lip to keep his smile from widening, signalling the bartender for another round of drinks.

 

“So, Ella, what do you like to do?,” he asked.

 

“What do I like to _do_?,” she asked him.

 

“Yeah,” he said, leaning into his lame question and her at the same time, “What’s your favorite thing that you’ve ever done?”

 

She pressed her back against the bar and looked up at him with those wide jade eyes again. He felt like a predator and he knew he was looking down at her hungrily.

 

“Me? I’ve never done anything,” she said with a shake of her head. She either had no idea how tantalising she was or she was an incredible actress. He wasn’t sure that he much minded either way though. “I’d like to though,” and gave a small smile to herself that told him it was the former, “I think I’d like to do just about everything in this world.”

 

“Want some company?,” he asked.

 

She giggled and took a sip of the drink that he handed to her.

 

“Do lines like that actually work up North?,” she asked with a raise of one perfect eyebrow.

 

“You tell me,” he said with a grin.

 

It hadn’t been a line. He’d just said it, because it would be nice to do anything with her and he had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t mind keeping her company for some time. Even still, he liked this game and how it made their surroundings disappear.

 

“They might do,” she said with another sip and narrowed her eyes at him haughtily, “If you were as charming as you think you are.”

 

He chuckled. She was such a strange mix of innocence and bravado that it was dizzying.

 

“I don’t think I’m charming,” he said honestly, and took a small step closer to her, “But you do.”

 

“What are you doing?,” she asked him curiously.

 

“Flirting with you,” he admitted.

 

“Why?,” she asked, as a smile overtook her face slowly.

 

“Can’t seem to help it. Can’t seem to _want_ to help it,” he confided.

 

She scrunched her nose adorably as though she was giving it much thought and said, “Then you may continue.”

 

Now that he had permission he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. She looked at him expectantly, taking a small sip of her drink and setting it down again.

 

“What did I tell you about that?,” he asked her.

 

“You remember that?,” she asked.

 

“I remember telling you not to drink the punch and not to put your drink down and not to ever trust a guy who says-“

 

“That his ex is crazy,” she finished with a grin. She looked down and when her head peered back up there was a blush on her cheeks, “I thought you were drunk.”

 

“I was,” he allowed, then grinned, “You still owe me a song by the way.”

 

She chuckled, “I’m not _nearly_ drunk enough for that.”

 

“Can we get another round of shots over here?”

 

***

 

She woke up in bed next to a Stark.

 

She certainly hadn’t intended on it. She had a guest room all to herself. But it had been so very late when they’d gotten home and they’d been so drunk and they’d been laughing so hard so it had felt very natural just to lay down and continue the conversation.

 

“Morning sleepyhead,” Sansa said.

 

It was always eerie when her roommate did that. She didn’t even have to look at her and she’d know she’d woken up. In fact, Sansa still had her eye mask on and she knew.

 

“You’re a witch,” Ella said, turning on her side and pushing the eye mask up, “I’m sure of it.”

 

“No you just finally stopped talking about Robb so I knew you must have woken up,” Sansa said.

 

“I do _not_ talk in my sleep,” Ella giggled.

 

Sansa liked to pretend that she made all kinds of promises in her sleep. That she’d do her laundry and take her for lemon cakes and ditch her first class of the day so they could curl up and watch an old movie.

 

“But if you did, it would be about Robb, wouldn’t it?,” Sansa asked her.

 

“Is that weird? I’m so sorry, nothing’s _happened_ and if it’s too odd then I’ll just nip it right in the bud and - you’re my best friend Sansa, I don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” she said honestly.

 

“Ha, first of all, there is no way Robb would allow that. I’ve never seen that boy _infatuated_ before. Second of all, it weirdly isn’t weird. At all. Like I think I ship you two… and third of all, you’re _my_ best friend and if I think I’d deny you or my brother the chance of being _happy_ then you’re absolutely crazy,” Sansa said.

 

“Really?,” Ella asked, “Oh Sansa, really?”

 

She hurled her body at Sansa’s and hugged her. She meant what she said. If it was weird for Sansa she wouldn’t pursue anything with Robb but oh god did she want to.

 

He was so handsome and charming and fun and he was just a little bit roguish but still awkward and sweet and he just made her giddy.

 

“I’m um, going to go back to my room and then get ready, want to take a walk or something?,” she asked.

 

“Oh well…,” Sansa blushed, “Jon…wanted to take me somewhere this morning. Will you be alright here on your own?”

 

“Ahhhhh!,” Ella said, because she completely shipped Sansa and Jon. “Yes, of course. Ooh wear that new blue sweater you bought the other day. Come and find me when you get back, I need all the details.”

 

With that she peppered Sansa’s cheek in kisses and got up. She looked down, she didn’t remember putting on pajamas but she was wearing a pair of boxers and a tank top. She didn’t feel like putting her clothes back on from the night before so she exited that way.

 

And collided right into a very large, wet chest.

 

“Oh my god,” she said, her hands lingering on the ab muscles more than they probably needed to.

 

“H-hey,” Robb said, gripping his towel, “My um…shower’s broken so I was using Bran’s…”

 

She nodded, her gaze trailing over the tuft of chest hair and his well defined muscles.

 

“Are those…my boxers?,” he asked.

 

She turned beet red and said, “Um… I honestly have no idea…”

 

He chuckled, “Well they look good on you. You should definitely keep them.”

 

“Well considering your outfit of choice,” she said, gesturing to his towel, “You don’t really need them anyway, do you?”

 

_You’re just an absolute idiot, aren’t you? This is why you’re a virgin._

 

To her immense surprise he turned beet red and readjusted his towel.

 

“Do you say these things just to make me blush or are you entirely unaware of how dirty you sound half the time?,” he asked her with half-smile.

 

“Honestly, I think it’s a little bit of column A, little bit of column B,” she admitted.

 

He nodded and said, “Well uh… what are you and Sansa up to this morning?”

 

“She’s going somewhere, and I’m sticking around here,” she said, not wanting to give away that Sansa was going somewhere with Jon, in case neither of them had told him.

 

“Great!,” he said, “I mean… it _would_ be great if… why am I doing this in a towel?… can I take you somewhere?”

 

“Sure! Let me just um… go get ready and I’ll meet you downstairs…,” she said, fighting the urge to do a happy dance.

 

They parted ways and she hopped in the shower and very speedily dried her hair and brushed her teeth. She pulled on jeans and a big cream turtleneck and pulled on ski socks and her snow boots and grabbed her long winter coat and hat.

 

She went down the stairs and found some of the younger Starks along with Ned.

 

“Well hello there,” Ned said with a chuckle when he saw her, “You kids sure had fun last night…”

 

“I’m so sorry if we were loud when we came in…,” she said.

 

“Oh don’t worry, sweetheart,” Catelyn said as she came into the room, “You and Jon had quite a job before you trying to wrangle our eldest children. I swear at one point Sansa was somehow being carried by you and trying to pick you up.”

 

Ella covered her mouth and giggled, “She’s very ambitious.”

 

“She is at that. Robb said to tell you he’d meet you outside in the driveway,” Catelyn said.

 

Catelyn and Ned shared a look and a small smile and Ella was pretty sure she was blushing all the way down to her toes as she thanked them and walked through to the front hall and then out to the driveway.

 

She saw Robb and started to walk towards him.

 

“Wait!,” he said, running forward with a bag of something in his hand, “Don’t move.”

 

She stopped moving but he didn’t, he lost his footing and slid right towards her. He ditched the bag and he banged right into her and they fell to the ground.

 

She landed on top of of him, and he had artfully landed in a snowbank, having twisted to avoid them going down on the pavement.

 

“Black ice?,” she asked.

 

“Its um… a tricky business,” he said with a grin, straightening her hat.

 

His hand lingered on the back of her head and their breath was intermingling in the cold morning air and he was looking at her with those cerulean eyes of his.

 

“Tricky business,” she repeated.

 

His lips were warm when he pressed them against hers and she sunk against him further. She felt it all the way down in her toes and smiled against his lips.

 

When they parted they were both a little starry eyed and he smiled up at her like he’d been wanting to do that for some time, even though they’d only officially met yesterday.

 

He rolled them over and got off of her, pulling her up.

 

“Hold onto me,” he told her.

 

_If you insist._

 

He lead her over to his car and let her in the passenger side. He jogged around to the driver’s side and hopped in, pulling out of the long driveway.

 

“So where are you taking me?,” she asked.

 

“You’ll see,” he evaded, turning on the radio, “You know your older brother really is shit because he should have told you not to get in cars with boys you don’t know.”

 

“He’s the worst,” she agreed and narrowed her eyes at him, “And you conveniently left that off your list of warnings…”

 

“Did I?,” he grinned, “Hmm, must have been an oversight.”

 

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked out the window. It really was a beautiful country and it looked like the inside of a snow globe, with everything dusted in fresh powder. The sun reflected on the snow and it practically glistened.

 

She turned to look at him and found him smiling.

 

“What?,” she asked.

 

“I knew you’d have a sweet voice,” he said.

 

She blushed, she hadn’t even realised she’d been singing along to the radio. She was a total goner.

 

“Let’s hear yours…,” she prompted.

 

He chuckled, “No way. You only like me right now, I’ve got to make sure you’re head over heels in _love_ with me before I let you hear that.”

 

“You intend on sticking around long enough for me to fall in love with you?,” she asked.

 

He looked at her like she was crazy and said, “The first night we talked, I had 100 people inside who had just thrown me a surprise party and all I wanted to do was stand outside and talk to you. I told you last night, I’d like to keep you company while you do everything you want. And besides… I don’t think it’ll take that long for you to fall in love with me, probably only twice as long as it’ll take me to fall in love with you…”

 

She bit her lip to hide her grin, “Do lines like that really work up North?”

 

“You tell me.”


	22. Tell her, tell her right now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another prompt from the lovely @Sansaclarkes. 
> 
> This is both my favourite couples equally.

“Do you need help with that?,” he asked.

 

“Oh, yes please, thanks Robb,” Ella Baratheon answered.

 

He picked up her dufflebag and lifted it up to put it next to his small suitcase on the shelf above their seats. They’d chosen two rows of two that faced one another, and he settled into the aisle seat of one, while she sat in the window seat of the opposite.

 

“Do I smell bad?,” she asked.

 

“NO!,” he exclaimed, before he realised she was kidding. He explained anyway, just to be safe, “Sansa gets sick if she’s not facing forward and she likes the window…”

 

“Poor little bunny,” Ella said. If it were any other girl he might thing she was being condescending but she was not any other girl. She was sweeter than sugar and absolutely devoted to his younger sister. She proved that by saying, “I brought that ginger gum she always claims she doesn’t need.”

 

He had a pack in his pocket as well.

 

“Where is that girl?,” he asked.

 

Sansa had said she wanted to grab a coffee and that she’d meet them on the train, but it looked like everyone was pretty settled.

 

“There she is!,” Ella said, smiling and waving brightly. Her brow furrowed, “Why is she getting smaller?”

 

“Because we’re moving,” he groaned.

 

“But she’s not on the train yet,” she protested, looking around for a conductor.

 

He stood up and looked out the window and expected to see Sansa frantic. Instead his little sister was the picture of calm. In fact, he could almost swear she smiled.

 

He pulled out his phone to tell her to get on the next train, but found he already had a text.

 

_Sansa: Have fun._

 

***

 

Sansa was feeling pretty proud of herself. It was rare that she got the upper hand with either Ella or her brother. The former was the cleverest girl she knew and the latter had a mischievous streak that caused a suspicious mind.

 

They were all going home for a few days to Winterfell because their boarding school was giving them a reading week before their winter exams. She, Robb, and Ella were all traveling back together and she really wasn’t in the mood to watch Robb stare forlornly at Ella, while her best friend, completely unaware of his affection, worried that she had something in her teeth. She’d had enough of that at the library last night and every night before that.

 

The problem was, they always had buffers. Either she was there, or Jon, worse yet, Theon. It was absolutely impossible to be romantic around Theon and his never ending stories of his conquests.

 

So today was the day, Sansa had decided as she stood in line for her peppermint latte.

 

She went calmly over to the ticket counter and exchanged her three o’clock ticket for the three twenty-five one and glanced around the magazine rack, wanting to stay out of sight, lest Robb see her and ruin his own happiness.

 

When she heard the conductor call _“All aboard!,”_ she couldn’t help but wander over. She saw them before they saw her, saw Ella’s bright smile when she saw her and then her immediate frown.

 

Robb stood up and stared at her and she couldn’t help but smile. He squinted his eyes at her like he knew.

 

She sent a text to him so he wouldn’t be worried, and she was feeling very satisfied with herself.

 

_Well, well, well little Sansa Stark getting the last laugh._

 

“Sansa?,” a gruff voice asked.

 

She turned around and gulped, “Jon?”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on that train?,” he asked her, “I thought Robb said you guys were taking the three.”

 

“We uh…were,” she said. He looked at her with those charcoal eyes of his that always seemed to make her honest and she explained, “I wanted to get him and Ella together so I ditched them.”

 

He looked at her, his mouth twitching, and said, “Well done.”

 

“Thank you,” she couldn’t help but beam, both at his praise and at her genius. She looked at the bag in his hand and said, “What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t go home until tomorrow.”

 

“Mormont cancelled practice,” he explained, “So I’m on the three twenty-five. Did you exchange your ticket already?” She nodded. “Great, we can sit together. Hope you don’t mind being stuck with me for a couple hours.”

 

Somewhere, someone was laughing, she was sure of it. It could be karma, it could be a god, either way, it wasn’t Sansa.

 

***

 

_Robb: Have fun?_

 

_Sansa: And you’re welcome._

 

_Robb: What exactly am I thanking you for?_

 

_Sansa: For giving you two hours with Ella by yourself, should be long enough to find a way to tell her you’re in love with her._

 

_Robb: I see her every day. Don’t you think I would have told her by now if I wanted to?_

 

_Sansa: Come on Robb, a train, the two of you, the snowy mountains… it’s practically Anna Karenina._

 

_Robb: You really need to study for your lit final if you think that’s a good thing._

 

_*_

 

_Jon: I hear you’re on the train with Ella. Nice._

 

_Robb: How did you hear that?_

 

_Jon: I’m with Sansa, taking the three twenty-five._

 

_Robb: I thought you had practice?_

 

_Jon: Mormont cancelled. Anyway, you going to go for it?_

 

_Robb: Why does everyone assume that just because I’m on a train with her I’m going to just attack her?_

 

_Jon: For the NSA operative reading this conversation I would like to note that I do not support attacking her._

 

_*_

 

_Ella: So I hear you’re with Sansa. And yes, I am typing that in the weird breathy voice you do when you say her name._

 

_Jon: I do not do a weird breathy voice when I say her name._

 

_Ella: You’re right, it’s a totally normal voice._

 

_Jon: Thank you._

 

_Ella: You’re inlovewithher. I mean you’re welcome._

 

_*_

 

_Ella: What happened?_

 

_Sansa: I got caught up._

 

_Ella: That train station is thirty feet wide. How exactly did you get caught up?_

 

_Sansa: Well I ran into a friend…_

 

_Ella: By the name of Jon Snow?_

 

_Sansa: Okay that happened later but oh my god he’s just grabbed my bag to take it onto the train. How cute is that?_

 

_Ella: Adorable. You should return the favor by grabbing his butt._

 

_Sansa: It’s so pretty._

 

_Ella: Okay I’m going to need the ginger gum I brought for you for that one._

 

***

 

Ella settled back against her seat as the train took them through the mountains. She’d always loved this ride, loved going to Winterfell on long weekends with the Starks and Jon.

 

She was from the South, King’s Landing, and it was thankfully too far to go for short trips so she went home with Sansa.

 

She turned to look at Robb and saw him typing furiously on his phone. He put it down on the seat next to him after a moment and sighed.

 

“You can take that seat now,” she pointed out, “I mean you don’t have to, but you can.”

 

He looked at her like she was speaking a different language and she wondered if she had been. She’d been studying so hard for her High Valyrian exam that she had found herself slipping it into conversation by accident.

 

“Oh, right,” he said and picked up his phone and scooted it over.

 

He was big and his legs were long and his loafers brushed against her ballet flats as he settled himself in. She didn’t move her foot though, already practicing her look of surprise for when he realised it.

 

“So are you worried for your history exam?,” Robb asked her.

 

“No, Selmy is a total softie,” she reasoned.

 

“He made Theon cry last year,” Robb offered in rebuttal.

 

She bit the inside of her cheek, “Well he’s nice to _me_.”

 

“Of course he is,” Robb nodded, then shook his head, “Who can resist Ella Baratheon?”

 

 _You,_ she thought, looking out to the mountains once again.

 

***

 

“Were you trying to ditch me?,” Sansa asked him, her cheeks were flushed and she was out of breath.

 

“No!,” he protested, “I just wanted to grab you this seat. You need to sit facing forward, right?”

 

She looked at him and blinked and he felt like maybe he _did_ use a weird breathy voice when he spoke to her. She was definitely looking at him like something was weird.

 

“Yeah,” she nodded, her pink cheeks flushed in exertion most likely, “I do. Do you mind?”

 

“Course not,” he said and stepped aside so she could take the window seat.

 

She liked staring off on the long ride.

 

He settled in next to her and their arms brushed. Her sweater was soft and fuzzy and seemed designed to make him want to rub his face against it. Though it probably wasn’t.

 

“How do you think my plan is working?,” she asked him.

 

He had to admit it was pretty good. Though he was biased, because it meant he got to spend two hours alone with her. She might even get tired and lean her head on his shoulder. She did that sometimes, it was nice.

 

And by nice, of course, it meant that it gave him a series of tiny little heart attacks that failed to kill him but succeeded in making him a sweaty, sputtering mess. Cowards.

 

“My guess is that he’s said something that very obviously suggests he’s in love with her and she’s completely missed it,” he suggested.

 

Ella was a bright girl but unfortunately for her, love had almost nothing to do with her brain and everything to do with her heart.

 

“You think it’s obvious that he loves her?,” she asked him with a furrowed brow.

 

He looked into her clear blue eyes and one of those little heart attacks happened when he realised just how close they were sitting.

 

“Well…,” he said (definitely in that weird breathy voice), “It _is_ a bit obvious.”

 

***

 

_Sansa: How’s it coming?_

 

_Robb: About a half hour ahead of wherever you are._

 

_Sansa: Robbert._

 

_Robb: She’s reading._

 

_Sansa: Well did you try talking to her?_

 

_Robb: Yes! I asked her about history._

 

_Sansa: Oooh romantic._

 

_Robb: You’re the one who got me into this mess, so you’re the one whose going to get me out of it. What do I say to her?_

 

_Sansa: Calm down. I’ll take care of it._

 

_*_

 

_Jon: Why did Sansa just ask me what happened the night of homecoming?_

 

_Robb: Um. I don’t know why. WHATEVER YOU DO DO NOT TELL HER._

 

_Jon: You think I’m going to tell her?_

 

_Jon: For fucks sake she’s onto me._

 

_Robb: Well that’s probably because you’re sweating profusely._

 

_Jon: I am nnot!_

 

_Robb: Is that typo because your fingers are sweaty?_

 

_Jon: No that was jusft poor timing._

 

_Robb: We’re fucked._

 

_*_

 

_Ella: What did you do to Robb?_

 

_Jon: Npjthing_

 

_Ella: Ew. Why are you sweating?_

 

_Jon: Maybe I’m drunk. Ever think of that one, huh Baratheon? DBID YOU?_

 

_Ella: You two are losing it. He just mumbled “Fucking Jon” under his breath and since I assume you two are not in fact fucking, what happened? Did you finally tell him at least that you’re in love with his sister?_

 

_Jon: NO! DO NOT TELL HIM_

 

_Jon: ELLA?_

 

_Jon: ELLA BLARTHATON_

 

_*_

 

_Sansa: Jon is having a panic attack._

 

_Ella: Offer him mouth-to-mouth._

 

_Sansa: Our school’s health education is seriously lacking._

 

_Sansa: How’s Robb?_

 

_Ella: He has taken to staring out the window and shooting nervous glances at me._

 

_Sansa: He doesn’t like to talk about it, but he gets nervous on trains. I usually sit beside him and help, do you mind?_

 

_Ella: Oh, of course! I had no idea, I’m so awful._

 

_Sansa: No, no of course you’re not. It really helps if he can hold someone’s hand though._

 

***

 

Ella set her phone down and cast a nervous glance at him.

 

_Oh god, she’s going to ask about homecoming. No, no no no._

 

She stood up and averted his gaze. He thought she might be heading to the bathroom but she turned and sat slowly in the seat beside him.

 

She smelled like jasmine and a bit like honey and he stared straight ahead.

 

“Robb,” she said quietly. “It’s alright.”

 

“What is?,” he asked her.

 

She looked in his eyes and then down at his hand and suddenly her small one reached for it. She took it in both of hers, pressing it firmly between them.

 

“I know,” she said with a small smile, “Sansa told me.”

 

“Sansa told you!?!,” he raged at her and she flinched.

 

“Robb it’s not a big deal,” she shook her head.

 

“You don’t consider my being in love with you a big deal? Well that’s just perfect,” he gave a harsh chuckle.

 

“Wait what?,” Ella asked in confusion.

 

“What?,” he asked her.

 

“Sansa told me you were afraid to ride on trains…,” Ella said slowly.

 

“Why would S-,” he started.

 

_I’ll take care of it._

 

***

 

“Okay I’m sorry but what actually happened on Homecoming?,” she asked Jon.

 

It had started out as an attempt to get both boys freaking out, like they always did whenever that night was brought up, but now Jon was _really_ freaking out.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly.

 

“Says the man having an aneurysm,” she huffed.

 

He sighed, “Okay, but you can _never_ tell Robb that I told you.”

 

“Oh I love stories that start like that,” she said, clapping her hands together.

 

He grimaced and sighed, “Okay, just remember that we are young. I mean, according to all credible research, our brains aren’t fully developed yet and alcohol is proven to affect people under-“

 

“You were drunk,” she nodded, “I remember. So what did you guys do? Go streaking? Steal something from the Dean’s office?”

 

“I wish,” Jon said. He was starting to make her nervous. “Okay, so we were all at that field party. And… okay well do you remember when Theon nearly punched Trystane?”

 

Trystane had flipped out on Ella because she wouldn’t dance with him. They’d dated briefly at the end of last year and he’d been pining for her all summer and decided to make that fact known when he was hammered. Ella hadn’t wanted to dance with him because he was drunk and out of control and he’d lost it, calling her a tease and yelling at her for breaking his heart.

 

“Yes… Trystane did _not_ deserve Ella intervening on his behalf…,” she growled, still angry about it.

 

“Well Robb and I agreed with you,” he said. “We told Theon to walk you girls back and then we decided to have a little talk with Trystane.”

 

“He… he was gone from school the next day. You… Jon… don’t tell me anything. I don’t want to purger myself,” she demanded.

 

He furrowed his brow at her, “What? No! We didn’t hurt him, Sansa. We just _happened_ to take some unfortunate photos and send them to his uncle.”

 

She covered her mouth, because that was awful. Trystane’s uncle was his guardian and he was also a senator. Anything Trystane did reflected on him and his _Family Values_ stance. Even still, it was pretty funny and she couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

 

He grinned at her and leaned his head back against the seat. He popped back up immediately.

 

“Did you really think we _murdered_ him and your first thought was _protecting_ us?,” he asked her.

 

“If I murdered someone, wouldn’t you protect me?,” she asked him.

 

“That’s different.”

 

“How?”

 

He looked at her and sighed, “Because protecting you is my form of self-preservation. It’s selfish, really.”

 

_My guess is that he’s said something that very obviously suggests he’s in love with her and she’s completely missed it._

__

Her stomach flip flopped and she really wished she had some ginger gum because she was feeling positively dizzy.

 

“You okay?,” he asked her in that gruff voice that made her toes curl, his face now full of concern.

 

“I think I just need to close my eyes for a bit,” she said.

 

“Here, lean on me,” he said, shutting off the overhead light.

 

She leaned her head on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar smell of freshly cut grass and firewood. She closed her eyes, her weight falling against his shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry if I fall asleep, you’ll let me know before you get off?,” she asked.

 

He chuckled and leaned his head against hers, “Before _we_ get off. If I get off this train without you, your Dad’ll murder me.”

 

***

 

_Robb: If I were you Sansa, I would take that train as far North as North goes._

 

_Robb: Sansa?_

 

_Robb: Are you feeling okay, Dovey? I’ll tell Jon to get you some water. Just close your eyes, you’ll be alright soon._

 

_*_

 

_Robb: Jon, is Sansa alright? Water helps. Seltzer water is better, they might have some in the cafe car._

 

_Jon: She’s fine, she’s just sleeping._

 

_Jon sent you a picture_

 

_Robb: You look all together too happy that she’s asleep on your shoulder right now._

 

_Jon: You just say that because you don’t have a girl sleeping on your shoulder right now._

 

_Robb: I told her._

 

_Jon: Oh thank god, I told Sansa too._

 

_Robb: You told Sansa that you’re in love with her??_

 

_Jon: No I told her about homecoming._

 

_Jon: I mean yes! Yes I told her I’m in love with her._

 

_Robb: For fucks sake how many times is this going to happen to me today?_

 

 

_*_

 

_Jon: How are you doing, little one?_

 

_Ella: I told Robb I was going to get a bottle of water. That was twenty minutes ago._

 

_Jon: Well you must be very hydrated._

 

_Ella: He loves me?_

 

_Jon: Wait he what?!_

 

_Ella: So how long have you known?_

 

_Jon: Two years and about five months._

 

_Ella: Okay so, what? Do you think he wants to go out with me?_

 

_Jon: Well considering the fact that he’s hopelessly in love with you, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind going to see a movie._

 

_Ella: You know your sass isn’t really helping anyone right now._

 

_Jon: It’s helping me a bit._

 

_Jon sent you a picture_

 

_Ella: Oh my god I’m framing this and I’ll give it to you guys on your wedding day!_

 

_Jon: Go talk to him, El. What are you afraid of?_

 

_Ella: I don’t know, my heart being broken?_

 

_Jon: He’d never break your heart. I’ll break his jaw if he does, but he won’t. Go get him El, I dare you._

 

_Ella: When Sansa wakes up, tell her. Get the girl, Jon Snow, I dare you._

 

_*_

 

_Ella: Okay I know you’re sleeping right now but I’ve got to tell you that I’m in love with Robb and I’m pretty sure I’m about to go kiss him._

 

_Sansa is typing…_

 

_Sansa: KISS HIM! DO IT FOR THE TEAM!_

 

_Ella: Did that text just wake you out of a deep slumber?_

 

_Sansa: YES! Your love is magic and I am a Disney princess. It is known._

 

_Ella: I love you._

 

_Sansa: I love you too._

 

_Sansa: Wait, how did you know I was sleeping?_

 

_Sansa: Ella?_

 

_Sansa: Oh my god are you kissing him?_

 

***

 

Ella took a shaky breath and walked back to her seat. Robb stood up when she arrived and she found herself wondering if she’d gone back in time and landed in an episode of Downton Abbey.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

 

“I’m the one who should apologise,” he said.

 

“You told me you loved me and I ran away,” she pointed out.

 

“Well, in your defence I did kind of shout it at you,” he said.

 

She nodded and a laugh escaped her lips, because he _had_ kind of shouted it at her. He looked at her and smiled, a blush on his cheeks.

 

She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him too but the train lurched and she fell right into his arms instead.

 

His strong arms caught her and he didn’t let her go, he just stared down at her like he’d always seemed to and she’d never realised.

 

“Can I try again?,” he asked.

 

“Try what?,” she asked, though whatever it was the answer was yes.

 

“Telling you I love you,” he explained.

 

“I think you kind of just did,” she broke it to him.

 

“I keep mucking this up,” he groaned. 

 

“You don’t,” she assured him, “I don’t think there is any bad way to hear that the boy you love loves you back.”

 

“I guess not,” he nodded and then his eyes flashed, “Wait… Does that mean…”

 

Before either of them could say anything else stupid, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. His arms came around her immediately, hugging her tight and just lifting her off the floor to kiss her deeper.

 

“Finally,” they heard someone grumble.

 

“Give it up for the lovebirds!,” she heard another whistle and soon the whole compartment was clapping.

 

She buried her face in Robb’s chest and waved her hand slightly at them, and Robb tugged her down.

 

He kissed her again and she giggled against his lips because he loved her and she loved him and everyone knew it. He cupped her face and kissed her through the giggle before tucking her under his arm.

 

She sat turned towards the window, her head against his chest, looking at the snowy landscape.

 

“You know all you need is a uniform and this could be just like Anna Karenina,” she told him.

 

“Okay seriously El, your literature teacher _sucks._ I think you and Sansa should transfer next semester.”

 

***

 

He didn’t wake Sansa up until they reached Torrhen Square. She’d woken at one point and sent rapid fire texts, done a little shimmy in her seat and promptly fallen back asleep.

 

He nudged her softly and her eyelids fluttered, blinking open.

 

She gave him a heartbreakingly beautiful smile and he didn’t think, he just kissed her.

 

Halfway through their lips touching he realised what he was doing and pulled away. Her brow was knit in consternation and she seemed upset.

 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

 

“Did you want to?,” she asked him.

 

“Of course I wanted to.”

 

“Then why exactly shouldn’t you have done it?”

 

“Because… I uh… you’d think after years of doing everything in my power not to kiss you I’d have thought of some reasons…,” he chuckled to himself. He was such an idiot.

 

“Maybe instead of manufacturing reasons _not_ to kiss me, you should have just kissed me,” she pointed out.

 

She was always so reasonable.

 

“You’re right,” he said.

 

That one caught her off guard and she startled, opening her mouth to say something. He wasn’t sure what it was going to be but he knew that it was distinctly possible it would contain an expletive so he kissed her again.

 

Her lips were sweet and soft and seemed designed for his. She was shy, which was okay, because he’d take it slow. He’d take all the time she needed to get use to him, he’d kiss her all night if that’s what it took.

 

He was a gentleman, after all.

 

He threaded his hands in her hair, and it was soft and silky to the touch and she was opening her mouth to him and the taste of her tongue sent electric currents through his veins.

 

He didn’t notice that the train slowed down until there was a harsh banging on the window.

 

“HEY! SNOW! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!,” Robb yelled.

 

“Maybe I should just stay on until the next stop,” Jon suggested, “I’ve always loved Deepwood Motte this time of year.”

 

Sansa giggled, “Come on, I’ll protect you, I promise.”

 

He groaned and grabbed their bags and followed her off the train.

 

He half-expected Robb to punch him when he got onto the platform, but he was busy, holding Ella’s bag in one hand and her hand in the other.

 

“Snow,” Robb grumbled.

 

“Stark, Jon managed.

 

“Can we skip the part where everyone pretends like they are annoyed at each other and just be happy that we are together?,” Sansa suggested.

 

“That sounds like a great idea,” Ella nodded.

 

Robb scowled at him and he raised his eyebrows.

 

“Come on Robb, Jon knows _exactly_ what you’ll do to him if he hurts me, he was with you on Homecoming after all,” Sansa reminded him.

 

“Wait,” Ella said, “What the hell happened on Homecoming?”

 

“Nothing,” he and Robb said, allies one again.

 

“Sansa?,” Ella asked.

 

Sansa winked at him and hooked her arm through Ella’s, pulling her towards the exit.

 

“Don’t worry about it, El,” Sansa said, “These boys love you something awful and that’s all you have to know.”

 

Ella turned to them and blew them a kiss, wrapping her arm around Sansa’s waist. Sansa wrapped her arm around Ella’s shoulders and they walked on, giggling with one another, quite confident that he and Robb were following behind.

 

“So you told her?,” Jon grinned.

 

“Twice,” Robb said, grimacing and shaking his head, “Neither of them on purpose. Did you tell her?”

 

Jon grinned and then frowned.

 

“Fuck I totally forgot. Sansa wait up!!!”


	23. Miles high, in the deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbcella 
> 
> Prompt from Tumblr: Things you said in the dark

Immense.

 

That was how Myrcella would have described the darkness surrounding them.

 

It had been an hour since they’d seen another car and another hour before that since street lamps guided their way.

 

Her back was rigid, her shoulders tense, her body primed for movement though she sat uselessly in the passenger seat.

 

“Do you think we should pull over and wait until morning?,” she wondered.

 

“The road is too windy, a car wouldn’t see us in time to stop,” he told her, and then a lighter tone entered his voice when he said, “And besides you know that _wolves_ roam in these woods.”

 

She smiled in spite of herself thinking of the first time he’d brought her north, when she’d seen a wolf running along the side of the car as though welcoming Robb home.

 

“It’s just so dark,” she lamented.

 

“I’ve been driving these roads since I was sixteen,” he reminded her. “Do you think I’d risk it if I was worried?”

 

 _“_ No,” she allowed.

 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he promised and then without looking over he reached over and stroked the swell of her stomach. “All of you.”

 

She covered his hand in hers and turned around and saw little Ned sleeping in his car seat, Grey Wind’s head resting on his lap.

 

“They doing alright?,” Robb asked, though he knew as well as she that if their son had woken up they would all know it.

 

“Perfectly happy,” she assured him, “He knows his Daddy is going to get him to Grandma and Grandpa’s safely.”

 

“My little girl seems a bit less restful,” he noted when he felt the baby kick.

 

“My fault,” she admitted, “She doesn’t like when I’m nervous.”

 

He rubbed small circles on her stomach with his thumb. Slowly her heart rate returned to normal and soon the kicking stopped. Their daughter was as helpless against the comfort of his touch as she was.

 

“She loves you already,” she told him.

 

The dimple she adored in his right cheek appeared and though the darkness was as great as ever she knew that he was blushing. Leave it to Robb Stark, who had always been adored by girls young and old, to become bashful from his unborn daughter’s affection.

 

“Is that your doing as well?,” he asked cheekily.

 

Myrcella grinned, “Perhaps.”

 

“I hope she follows your example in all things,” he told her, “So that she grows up good and kind and strong.”

 

“And if, my love,” she wondered, “A boy comes along and steals her heart as you stole mine, do you hope she follows my example then too?”

 

“Yes, because if our little girl has the opportunity to be loved as much as I love you, then I would want her to risk everything for it,” he told her. She sighed and leaned her head against his strong arm. “And besides, we will not make her choose as your parents did. We will support her no matter who she loves.”

 

“I’ll remind you of that when the first boy comes to pick her up for a date when she’s fifteen,” she teased.

 

“Eighteen,” he countered.

 

“Sixteen,” she offered.

 

“Seventeen and a half?,” he asked.

 

“Sixteen,” she resolved.

 

He chuckled against her hair, “Whatever you say, sweetheart. Sixteen, seventeen, thirty, it matters not. There is nothing she could do that I would not love her through, that I would not support her through. There is no night dark enough that would keep me away from her when she needed me.”

 

“Then she is the luckiest little girl in the world already,” she told him with a yawn.

 

“Do you feel tired?,” he asked her.

 

“Just safe,” she answered but she yawned again and closed her eyes.

 

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he urged her, and murmured against her hair, “I’ve got you.”

 

Immense.

 

That was how Myrcella would have described the love surrounding them.


End file.
